Fragile
by PhoenixDiamond
Summary: Domino City's been divided for decades. The North belonged to the Blue Eyes. The South belonged to the Red Eyes. Atem leads the Blue Eye Aces. Yami reigns over the Red Eye Spades. As for Yugi, he was just a normal high school student with hopes for a future and a world outside this rough life. He'd never meant to get involved on either side. AU. Mobiumshipping.
1. Responsibilites

**Title: **Fragile

**Disclaimer: **I am writing this story for fun and not profit. The characters belong to Kazuki Takahashi. Therefore I own nada and make nada.

**Warnings: **AU**. **Sexual relations between males. Violence. Profanity. Angst. Drug usage. (Not by Yugi) OOCness.

**Pairings: **Mobiumshipping. Side pairings will vary.

**Author's Rant: **This will be a medium to slow paced romance, with plenty of angst, minor character deaths and mental frustration. I estimate this plot to be between 20-30 chapters long. If you prefer cutesy, cuddly, warm and fuzzy romances, then please go elsewhere. Trust me, there's going to be hell before happily ever after. If you're ready, enjoy the journey to these three's romance. ^_^

**Summary:** Domino City's been divided for decades. The North belonged to the Blue Eyes. The South belonged to the Red Eyes. Atem lead the Blue Eye Aces. Yami reigned over the Red Eye Spades. As for Yugi, he was just a normal high school with hopes for a future and a world outside this rough life. He'd never meant to get involved on either side.

* * *

**Responsibilities**

* * *

_Domino City Police have concluded the two week search of Heba "One Hit" Muto, after discovering the body of a young man fitting his description behind Domino City Plaza. Forensics was able to confirm through dental records and blood tests that the body did indeed belong to the city's All Star First Base man for Domino City High School. Heba finished his final tournament against New Domino City High School and earned this year's MVP Player of the Year nomination and was able to guarantee the sixth straight win of the season for his school. _

_Witnesses stated around 8:39 p.m., just minutes after gaining the city their first National Championship win, Heba was last seen exiting the Domino Hall Stadium with two unidentified youths. A 2007 Black Tahoe Z71 pulled up to the curb, where Heba and the two unknown youths entered. No one had seen the senior baseball player since. _

_Heba Muto's death is believed to be in connection to the recent increase in violence between the Blue Eyes and Red Eyes, rival gangs whom have caused majority of the city's crimes. Domino Police, however, refuse to answer further questions to the claims. No arrests have been made. Rumors circulate of bribery keeping suspects off radar; perhaps tools of the Blue or Red Eyes. The city is left in a quiet disdain and with little hope of their being a change in the community's gang activity. _

_Heba J. Muto, a well-respected A/B honor roll student, leaves behind a eleven year old brother, a grandfather and a slew of friends. _

_Another casualty due to endless bloodshed, senseless war and unspeakable conspiracies from terrorizing gang members; there doesn't seem to be a silver lining in sight. _

_Heba J. Muto shall be missed. _

* * *

**Domino Hall Stadium 2013**

Domino Hall Stadium was lit brighter than Las Vegas on the fourth of July. The audible bedlam was ridiculously loud, the music bass pulsed beneath the ground from the speakers of sports cars, classic vehicles and high shined rollers, wanting a chance to advertise their fortunes. Outsiders of the enormous building would think a beast was demanding freedom from how the walls rumbled, how the screams echoed to the skies and how the lone clack of a bat stole the breath of every soul within.

It was the most anticipated game of the season; the last before the trip to the National Championship. Domino High School vs. Heartland Academy High, and Domino's first baseman, Tristan Taylor, walked up to base, casually twirling his crimson and grey metal bat, prepared to hype up the crowd before the main event. The tall brunet cracked his neck from side to side, hunched his shoulders and poised over the diamond plate. He gave a slow practice swing, and then hung it tight over his shoulder.

The stadium fell silent.

Tristan's brown eyes observed the competition from beneath his dove gray helmet, as his upper torso twisted in his solid white and blue rimmed uniform. The pitcher paused, eyes shifty. Tension condensed the atmosphere thick as oil.

Everything was set. The pitcher wound his arm back and thrust a fast eighty-two mile pitch. Tristan smirked. The snap of his bat to the baseball ripped throughout the stadium and skyrocketed high above. The out fielders sprinted for the ball's landing somewhere in the distant field. Tristan managed to race to second base, pushing their second baseman to third base.

One out, two bases full, and now the players were becoming antsy. Bedlam waves began to drum into the stadium seats when Bone Crusher's "Ain't Never Scared" throbbed from the stadium speakers. Screams grew in volume and howls escalated from the dugout to the top round seats as Domino High School's shortstop, emerged from the dugout.

_So I'm outside of da club and you think I'm a puuuuuuuunk  
So I go to my loaded Tech 9 thats off in the truuuuuuuunk  
I told that muthafucka  
I ain't never scared (eastside!)  
I ain't never scared (westside!)  
I ain't never scared (southside!)  
I ain't never scared (northside!)  
I ain't never scared (southside!)  
I ain't never scared (eastside!)  
I ain't never scared (westside!)_

Eighteen year old shortstop, Yugi Muto, sharp hitter, 6.3 runner, and 84 mph pitcher, stepped up to the plate, the sound of fans escaping him. Yugi straddled the plate, his wooden bat a lifeless swing in his left hand as he zeroed in on the enemy pitcher's right arm. The entire stadium shushed down the rows until total silence swept the arena. The pitcher knew Yugi's weak left side and knew the youth didn't know how to completely defend against a curveball. It was predictable. The team waited with chewed lips, baited breaths and eyes focused solely on their star player.

The pitcher hiked his leg, wrung his arm back and shot a fast curveball, hooking on the left.

It was too easy. Yugi grinned wickedly and swung his bat hard.

The sound popped, cracking like a shotgun and making the ball soar.

The crowd gave a mighty roar, setting an earthquake of excitement. The ball got plenty of air time and wasn't looking like it planned to come back. Yugi tore off to first base, then second and third, smile becoming wider and brighter the closer he came to home base. Heartland's pitcher and out fielders, shook their heads and slammed their hats to the ground. Yugi Muto had set out to accomplish what the team needed the most.

One homerun. Tristan and their center fielder came sprinting in with Yugi not far behind. The eighteen year old's cleats barely grazed the home plate when he was bombarded by his teammates. The game was over. Victory was secured. Fans poured from the bleachers in waves, wagging the school colors on flags and hollering at the top of their lungs. Yugi galloped into their arms, fists balled to the air. Heartland Academy evaporated from the field like a rain fog, grumbling and depressed.

Tristan trudged through the swarm of players to reach the center. He stood a moment, watching the humbleness roll off Yugi's face. Having this much attention on himself was never his forte. Honestly, he preferred the quiet, but you'd never guess from the way the enthusiasm radiating on his face. He was positively glowing.

And he earned it. After all this time, Yugi deserved this moment.

Not to mention the whole tradition that came with the end of every baseball season for those who gave the most towards the team. Tristan grinned like he found a million bucks and disappeared in the crowd along with two other players.

A news reporter brown haired suddenly sprouted from the ground when the team escorted Yugi close to the dugout. She thrust her mic forward, "Yugi Muto, this is your second attempt to taking the team to the National Champion. How do you plan to bring home the title this year?" She asked, grey eyes alit with gusto.

Yugi shushed his teammates, and stepped off to the side. A few he had to shoo away when they tapped his ass for good sportsmanship, "Well, the same as I always do I guess," Yugi said with a Colgate smile, removing his helmet. Sweat matted his oddly fingered spikes to his scalp, matting his blond, ebony and red hair into a volcanic nest. He smelled of stained grass, the orange dirt and sweat, but it was well worth the thrill. "Hard work, team play and determination. We couldn't have made it this far without practicing together. Coach is always preaching, if we get in the habit of doing good, good things will happen."

The news reporter, Keisha, looked over Yugi's shoulder, giggled and stepped to the side, "And do you plan to use that same vigor to bring home the title? I can understand how overwhelming the pressure is."

Yugi shrugged, "It can be at times, but I never try to think about it. After all, I've always got my teammates to back me up. Even when they tend to get out of hand." Yugi laughed. Keisha patted his shoulder and took one long step to the side.

Before Yugi could wonder why, Tristan and the two players appeared out of nowhere and dumped a ten gallon cooler of red Gatorade all over the youth's body. "Ha, hell yeah, we got 'em. We got his ass. Yeah!" The trio hi-fived and high tailed it out of there, cackling like a flock of banshees.

Yugi was soaked to the bone, shivering and taking it all in stride, "Yeah, yeah, laugh it up. You got me," he laughed too, unable to resist. Wearing a white uniform, now sullen in red juice was definitely going to give the audience an eyeful. Keisha, who'd been giggling behind her hand, carefully found her place back to Yugi's side and held out her mic.

"Does this count as being _out of hand_?"

Yugi shook his hair, it too, a soggy ruin, draping in tangled clumps, "Nah, this is tame. I've had way worst."

"I guess it's to be expected. I remember your brother being doused in orange gatorade when he won the final game. Heba received his MVP nomination and possible recruitment by the New York Yankees. How do you predict your future? Perhaps as bright as his?"

His brother. Right. Yeah. "Probably, yeah, I mean I try hard to be a good player and. . ." _It 'll never be centered on his success._ "I think that's enough about me tonight. I'm just gonna, gonna shower. Excuse me." Yugi brushed passed without another word, mood soured with age old memories.

Why should he be surprised? Even an ounce? When it boiled down to it, it always lead back to this. Him and . . . Heba.

Yugi trucked his way passed the team and his best friend, leaving Tristan's raised high five in the air. Tristan's gaze followed Yugi's back until he disappeared around the hall corner. That look spoke plenty. Tristan sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Hey guys, I'll catch ya at the bar tonight. Something just came up!" He said to the few who heard and the others who weren't listening. If he was going to do damage control, it was better now than later.

* * *

Yugi's worked hard and trained since he was eight years for this moment; for this one special moment and he couldn't own it. Yugi fingers clutched the front of his helmet, compressing the foam inside until his nails ate through the material. It wasn't fair. "Damn it!" The anger built so rapidly, Yugi smashed his helmet against the cement floor and splinters of acrylic went flying. It did nothing to lessen the rage, the humiliation and bitterness in his propped down hard on the locker bench, hiding his frustration in his hands, taking several deep breathes.

Sometimes—sometimes he wanted to let all this balled up anger out. He wanted to have a right to be upset, to be disappointed, and yet, how could he? How could he. . . Yugi suddenly stood and snatched open his locker, grabbing a wash towel, his body wash and shower shoes before stalking to the shower stalls. When he entered the checker tiled stalls, the light sensors automatically flickered to life, a panel at a time until the whole bathroom glowed.

Yugi unbuttoned his dirt stained jersey, revealing the white under armor t-shirt, he wore underneath and then flung the rest of his uniform over the overhead bar. Tendrils of his anger lessened but only a smidge. The shower knob was turned to hot, a steaming temperature to match his attitude. Yugi cleaned with vigorous scrubs, jerky strokes and harsh scratches until his skin was littered in red blotches_. _

"Of course Heba gets the steal," Yugi grumbled, lathering up more soap on his rag. "He gets everything. It wasn't me they saw, it was him. It was fucking him." He smacked the sods on and continued the soapy abuse on his body. Yugi paused where he was rubbing his shoulders, staring off into another time, another space, another moment; when everything was so much easier then. Memories of living carefree, never having to worry about being a carbon copy of anyone . . . back then he would've been his own person, his own success.

If only, if only Heba hadn't died . . . Yugi growled, eyes sealed shut, "Heba, you ruined everything." The harsh hiss of the shower turned his skin a shade of red, though it didn't hurt as much as the anxiety and aggravation swelling in his chest. As he caved in allowing the water flood his body, it couldn't mask the gentle knock on the door and the glass door sliding to the side.

A rush of cool air blasted Yugi's backside, yet he didn't turn around to meet the disapproving glare of his best friend.

"You plan on savin' some for the rest of us?" Tristan reached pass to twist the knob, getting himself drenched in the process. "Sheesh man, it's fryin' in here. You alright?"

Yugi's shoulders slumped as limp as his hair. Tristan had stripped down to his royal blue boxer briefs, black tube socks with a white towel wrapped around his neck. He knew what was bugging Yugi. Hell, the guy only wore this expression when a _particular subject_ came up.

Yugi finished up and came out, wearing his terry cloth towel around his waist. He took up the seat next to Tristan, and cupped his face in his hands. "I'm just tired. Everything's stressing me out; the pressure and," Yugi shook his head. "It's just, just everything."

Tristan's cinnamon eyes softened, "I know. Being an all-star's no cake walk," he chuckled. "I know I'd be rippin' my hair out if I had to sign autographs and talk to reporters every day."

"No, its not that," Yugi groaned, purple eyes peeking through his fingers. "I can't stand it."

"Can't stand what?"

"People not seeing me. I, I feel like they see somebody else, like they want me to be _him_." _Him_ was said with so much contempt, Tristan squinted close to see if Yugi would start spitting acid from his mouth.

And this was where the meat of his attitude was coming from. Tristan pinched the bridge of his nose, and loosely exhaled, "Yug', this is getting tired man. I'll never get what's so bad about being the little brother of a super star. People loved Heba—"

"And that's the whole problem," Yugi spat, eyes licked with rage. "They _loved_ him, Tristan? They still do. I can't go a single day without being asked what it was like being his brother, how often I got to watch him play or _'do you think you'll measure up_?' I'm sick of it! It's always about him." Yugi stood and started pacing like a lion biding its time before the cage opened.

Tristan followed every step before shaking his head, "Dude, we must've went to a different game, because out there," Tristan thrust his thumb over his shoulder, indicating the still robustly loud crowd lingering around the stadium. "I heard them yelling Yugi Muto, not Heba Muto. It was about you—about all of us getting this win so we can hit the big leagues."

Yugi whirled around, scowling, "It was about all of us. But you wouldn't be able to tell when all they ever ask me is if I think I'll bring the title home like Heba. I know I'll be able too! I'm nothing like him. Why can't they see that?"

No, no Yugi wasn't anything like Heba. Tristan could see that in the way his best friend grew up before his eyes. Since Heba died, Yugi tried everything in his power to step out of Heba's shadow by all means of change. He smiled more where Heba rarely did. Yugi focused on teamwork and sportsmanship, making friends, accelerating in school. Heba kept to himself, never speaking to anyone or bothering to hang out with others. He just went to school, made his grades, went to work and then went home; never straying from routine. Where Heba had been tall 5'11 to 6'0, bulky in frame, with a gruff voice, Yugi wasn't. He'd grown from 5'0 to 5'6 and stopped there, he worked out as much as he could to gain enough lithe muscle so as not to come off as a starved child. It helped build his confidence, boost his endurance and sometimes, won him adorations of the opposite sex.

Now, if Tristan was into that sort of thing, and he sure as hell wasn't, he'd admit that Yugi was a good looking guy. His chest was sculpted with slim cords and ropes of muscle. His arms were strong and thick from days of swinging a bat and his legs were toned like a runner. He had the body of a baseball player. Yugi the like kind of guy woman dreamed about in Men's Vogue with a disposition as sweet as candy canes.

Tristan straddled the wooden bench and turned his head to the side, glaring half serious, half amused at Yugi, "Ya know, we don't exactly have it easy either, always being compared to you. It's always, where's Yugi, will Yugi play today, how will we fare without Yugi and blah, blah, blah. I tell ya man if we weren't best friends, I would've knocked ya out from sheer jealousy." he said, making Yugi halt his pacing, eyes drifting to the side.

"I'm sorry," Yugi murmured, glancing up. "I wasn't thinking. I never imagined—I don't encourage it."

"Yeah we know you don't," Tristan nodded, his soft grin spreading up his cheekbones. "You never showboat around or shove it in our faces how much the fans love you. You always try to make us feel important too." He tugged Yugi down in the center of his spread thighs. "But you gotta see that they _see you,_ dude. No one's purposely comparing you to Heba. When you graduate, whose name is gonna be on the diploma? You," Tristan emphasized by pressing his finger into Yugi's shoulder. "And when you get recruited in the major leagues, you really think they're gonna give three shits about who your brother is? Hell no, they'll want _Yugi Muto_ on their team."

Yugi's eyes grew wide, expressive as a lavender pool. Slowly, oh so slowly, his head lolled to the side and fell gently on Tristan's shoulder. Neither were ashamed of the close connection. "Thanks Tristan," Yugi warmly whispered. "You always know what to say."

"Yeah, I know." Tristan's palm came up to pat the center of Yugi's back. "So why the hell I gotta preach this same shit every Friday? I'm startin' to think you're fishing for compliments." He patted him again, noticing Yugi's flinch. Tristan frowned, "Ya good?"

"Cool, I'm fine."

"Yug'," Tristan wasn't convinced. He dipped his head backwards to get a look at Yugi's midsection and growled. "Again? When did this happen? Before the game or yesterday?" In the center dip of Yugi's back was a bruise as ugly as mold on bread. It was a wonder the shortstop could play at all with this injurt. It was the size of a disc, bubbling under the flesh in red, blue and black. "Damn, they did a number on you this time."

"I said I was fine. It wasn't even the same thing. I hurt my back at the shop unloading a shipment."

Tristan blinked, "That's the biggest crock of shit, I've ever heard."

The shortstop rolled his eyes and shoved away, "Totally ruin the mood, why don't 'cha? You're good at that too."

"Oh come on, don't I get points for effort?"

"You get a C for effort."

"Tea would say I always got it right. As a matter of fact, she told me I could _lighten her mood anytime_," Tristan's grin could impress the Grinch as he lecherously bounced his eyebrows. "Actually, me, her and the rest of the team were heading off to the bar to celebrate. You wanna join?"

"Can't, sorry. Grandpa needs help closing the game shop. I wanna make sure he gets to bed on time."

"Ok, what about afterwards? It shouldn't take that long, right? The gang's not gonna leave until nine thirty anyway."

"Maybe some other time, Tristan," Yugi said apologetically. "We'll do something tomorrow. I'm just not up to being around anymore crowds tonight."

"Yeah, I feel ya there man." Tristan re-flipped his towel over his shoulder and cupped Yugi's shoulder. "You wanna wait a sec until I'm done? I could walk ya home. You know it's bad out there."

Yugi patted his friend's hand, "I'm good Trist'. I'll call you when I get home."

"Make sure you do," Tristan's tone hardened cold as stone. "I mean it Yug', don't let me hear about another scuff without me in it. Cool?"

"You won't," Yugi eased away, secretly warmed to his core at his best friend's concern. It was nice and comforting having someone care about his welfare because they genuinely gave a damn. He offered a smile and a two fingered salute, "I promise. Expect my call as soon as I step through the front door. See ya!"

Tristan pivoted on his foot just as Yugi rounded the corner, "I mean it Yugi Muto! I'm givin' you till nine on the dot. No call, no dice, I'm comin'!"

He didn't get an answer back. Not that he'd expected one. Tristan ducked back inside his shower stall, shaking his head. Thirty minutes, that's all he was giving him. After that . . . well he just hoped there was an _after that_.

* * *

Yugi dressed down in a pull over grey hoodie, some jet black jeans and white Converse shoes. Leaving the arousing activities and back pats of the stadium wasn't nearly as hard as walking home. The difference in environment was as drastic as a new color. Here on the south end of Domino, hardly anyone ventured through. The better part of the city refused to acknowledge its existence, since it only tarnished Domino City's neat, visually perfect, fabricated name.

On the outside there, everything was cleaner, the air pure as spring water and the people, full of smiles and a handshakes.

Here on the inside, the roads were cracked and aged with pot holes. The night's dreary chill added more to the South Domino's skeletal area. Yugi gripped his backpack straps, and forged onward, eyes focused forward. The buildings were cracked, chipped and peeling. Crimson and Black graffiti designs, marking RES on every stretch of space available. Some reached as high up as the third story windows and others stretched as far the wideth of the building it was canvased on. The further Yugi walked, the more pronounced, colorized and artistically violent the initials became.

It marked the entrance into Red Eye Territory, this and three quarters of South Domino. It all belonged to them; those who wore their colors in pride. The graffiti served as advertisement and a warning to those who entered. The gang members were out there. A lot of them were, mostly foot soldiers. Yugi never made eye contact with a single one as he trucked home. They were becoming more visible to eye the closer to home he came. Some hung out drug houses and loitering near abandoned buildings and alleyways.

Kame's Game Shop was one of a few that didn't get turned into a '_Sling House'_ or drug house. It remained off radar, tucked in a tiny patch of wood about few meters from the main portion of this division. Yugi was glad for the most part. It meant him and his grandpa didn't have to wake up every other hour to gun shots or police sirens echoing in the distance.

He thought they were safe from that nonsense.

Or so he believed.

When Yugi came up to his street, the hovering mercury lantern wasn't on. The glass bulb was bust from the outside. His whole body flexed and his jaw tensed when he spotted three cars lined along the rocky dirty road. One was a 2007 Black Sedan nestled on chrome rims. The middle was a royal blue 2009 Crown Victoria sporting polished gold rims size 28'. The last was tucked to the side, a few years newer and more expensive: a 2011 dark crimson Chevy Tahoe perched on silver and chrome lipped rims.

Yugi recognized the tags RES4LFE immediately and picked up the pace, already snatching off his bag, flinging it to the side. The slick smack of grime and dirt clung to the bottom of his shoes. The front windows were broken as bad the light post. Worst, they were broken from the inside. Glass shards glittered under the porch light, thousands of them surrounding mixed in with the lamp used to break it. The only light in the place came from the bottom floor, a lone artificial beam dotting from the left. The dangerous aura filtered from the game shop like a nightmare. Yugi half wished he'd taken Tristan up on his offer, but shook the idea as fast as it came. It would've ended worst then it was going to tonight. Yugi looked around for his metal lead pipe, one he'd used the last time it got this _unexpectedly_ crowded.

Yugi pressed his back against the door and checked the doorknob. It was unlocked. He twisted once and pushed forward, moving as the door fell open. The door evilly creaked, alerting the three gangsters inside. Yugi's eyes fell on his grandpa sitting in a chair, surrounded but thankfully unharmed.

"Damn kid, 'bout time ya showed up. I was losin' my damn mind stickin' around this dump," The first of the grunts said, lazily stalking to the door. He flicked his bright red hair to the side, to show his red contact lens.

Yugi straightened, fingers gripping the end of his pipe carefully.

The one approaching noticed the weapon and his hand went to the back of his jeans, "Ya plannin' on doin' something with that, son? 'Cause I doubt you really wanna go there."

"What are you doing here? We paid our protection fee yesterday!" Yugi snarled angrily, completely bypassing the question asked. He gave the shop a clean sweep, growing increasingly angry. Cards were scattered all over the floor, some with ridge prints and others ripped to pieces. The glass case beneath the register was bashed open and whatever was fragile ended up on the floor. "Was all this necessary?!"

"It sure was." The second one, a brown haired lanky fellow with brown eyes, stepped forward. "Turns out you forgot to pay taxes."

"Taxes? What the hell? Since when do you tact on taxes to protection fees?"

"Yugi."

Yugi's heart thumped when he heard the rough hiss of his grandfather's voice, fragile as a butterfly wing, erupt from the center of the mass. "Just give them the money. We only owe three hundred more and we'll be fine until next month."

Yugi gasped. "Three hundred?! We already paid you eight!" he snapped, outraged. "We can't afford to fork out money like that. What are we supposed to live off of?"

The brown haired gangster guffawed like a hyena, "Ain't our problem kid. If you want protection, ya gotta put up. Otherwise, ain't no telling who might fuck up this lil' shop of yours."

"Yugi please—"

"Grandpa, we can't!" Yugi stressed. He looked to the gangsters, each wearing a bored, amused and carefree expression in light of the situation. Yugi's grip fastened so tight around the metal weapon, the ridge grooves dug into his palm. "There's no way. I'm sorry. We can't afford to pay that and then have enough to live on until next month. Just add it to next month's fee."

Red hair shrugged, "No dice, kid. You're barely getting in the eight hundred we need. That'll put you at eleven hundred plus two more for not paying now."

"Fuck this," the silent one spoke at last, dark hair combed to the back and red contacts lit with annoyance. "I say we make change. The old man hasn't spat out a cent. Let's take it outta his ass!"

The red hoodlum chuckled, "Now that's the best idea I heard all night, C.J." He nodded once and the trio started toward the aged man.

"Wait, hold on," Yugi sprinted around, arms spread out out and feet firmly placed. "Get it out of me. I'm all for it and I won't fight back. I don't care."

The three paused, sharing glazed looks, then turned to face their new victim. "You're sayin' you'll take your granddad's whoopin'?"

"I did yesterday."

Blondie snickered, "Well damn. That's even better then C.J's idea."

"Yugi no, please don't," Grandpa Solomon grasped his grandson's pants legs, crinkling the material in his hands. "Boy, listen to me. I'm old and feeble. I don't have much else to live for. Let them do it to me."

Yugi pivoted down to one kneel, keeping a diligent eye on the trio as he spoke to his grandfather, "Grandpa I'll ok. They won't kill me. It'll last only three minutes. Just three minutes and we won't have to worry about paying the extra money."

"Yugi please, just—just get it out of my savings. Please, I can't let you do this to yourself. I can't risk your life. You're all I have."

"And it'll stay that way, Grandpa. I'm not going to leave you. I promise I'll come back in, right as rain. If you don't want to hear, go upstairs and sit in the living room."

"Yugi—"

The brown haired gang member yawned obnoxiously, stretching his arms overhead, "I don't give a damn who wants this ass whoopin'. Let's just get it done. Some folks got places to be, bitches to fuck."

"I know that's real," the blond said. "Let's go pretty boy. You got ten seconds and five are already gone." The three made their way out the door and waited.

Yugi helped his grandpa up to his feet, offering a soft assuring smile, "I promise," he whispered. Solomon hesitated, glancing nervously out the door and at his grandson. Yugi urged him up to his feet and watched his grandfather disappear into the dark.

Yugi took in a long, deep breath and released it through his nose, long and winded. Glancing out of his broken window, he saw the three assailants waiting for him outside, cracking their knuckles, faces as bloodthirsty as a pack of wolves.

It would only last three minutes. A minute for every hundred he couldn't pay. Only three minutes, was what he mentally told himself over and over again. Yugi shut the door and followed where they led him to the edge of the woods.

They surrounded him. He braced him.

_Only three minutes. Only three minutes._

* * *

If there was anything J.R. hated, it was doing surveillance. His mission was a steady, easy survey of the deep sector of RES territory. There were twenty seven foot soldiers on the loose around the area, twelve of them were pushers, some were regular patrollers of the division and the rest were street runners. J.R. was in charge of making sure the money flowed without interruption. No one was allowed to go pass the boundary without checking in with him for inventory purposes. He knew every last one of them by sight, scent, habit and personality and they knew he wasn't one to be messed around with.

Especially when his attitude was running hotter the devil's nut-sack.

J.R. was dressed in his usual supervisor gear, a jet black jean vest with a sleeveless white tee, black jeans and low top Air Forces. It wasn't that he didn't like his job; being second in command came with its perks. It was just the idiots that reduced him to this unnecessary labor, he didn't like.

For instance, rumors were filtering through the network of several collectors collecting a little more than they were supposed to for the gang and keeping a healthy sum for themselves. J.R. would recognize the culprits as soon as he laid eyes on them, because they always fell out of routine. There were stooges missing in action. They were scheduled to be back by now with the loot from that Muto house. Workers who failed to meet an appointment were usually the crafty assholes to keep watch over.

Those are the kind of employees the O.G. didn't need. And those were the kind of assholes Joey "J.R." Wheeler didn't need to babysit. Workers only get three warnings. Just three. These idiots were creeping up on their third, so that meant they were going to need a lesson in manners. The lieutenants stationed at each sector had told them to lay off the stealing. The O.G. had sent word down the food chain that they better behave.

Well they never got a warning from J.R.

J.R. reached around his back for his M1911 pistol, turning it from safe to semi and made his way down the road. He re pulled his cell and pressed speed dial for the name O.G.

It rung once and clicked on, "_You found them?"_ OG's voice rumbled quietly through the receiver.

"Yeah, they extortin' da' loot. I tracked 'em to that Muto kid's house." Joey spotted the three vehicles parted on the edge of the woods. "Ya might wanna send some grunts fer the cars. These assholes won't be needin' em."

"_Already done, but don't kill them. I'm sending Thief out for the bodies."_

Joey barked a short laugh, "You're sending that maniac out here? So does that mean I can't play nice?"

A moment later, a cold distilled laughter caressed the phone, "_I never said that. By all means, enjoy yourself."_

Oh, he planned too. Joey heard the familiar crackle of bone and a shout of pain. Since they were having fun—he cranked his gun—he planned to have fun too.

* * *

It hurt more than last time. Yugi didn't remember it lasting as long either.

Anticipation was probably what scared him more the impact of the first strike to his side and then the rest to follow. A shout was strangled in his throat when a stumbled to the ground by a punch to his temple. Yugi landed on his side, cradling his ribs and his skull the best he could from the swarming kicks and elbows and punches. No matter how he defended himself, there seemed to be an opening for a foot to get to his jaw, a fist to his thigh or a stomp to his stomach. Yugi shut his eyes, choking on strings of blood threatening to seep through his teeth.

He tried to keep quiet. The sudden shouts of pain seemed to feed into this frenzy. However, his silence triggered an even harsher beating. No one would come to save him from this. A swift kick slammed into his chest, and collarbone. Three minutes. That's all he had to survive for, was three minutes. But dear God how could he? The brute force of their attacks was snapping nearly everything in range.

A fist wound tight as a noose in his hair and lifted his blooded face. Yugi's left eye was swelled shut, the other involuntarily wincing. His body was on fire with agony, and there was so much fire running through his veins, though he dared not fight back. Even the slightest bit of retaliation would guarantee his would be grandfather harmed.

A large foot came forward and cut across his open face, slicing his lip and connecting with the bridge of his nose. Yugi's head rung, eyes knocked out of focus. They would wait a few seconds, then began again, so cruelly giving Yugi false hope that it was over, only to restart again. Yugi clung to his last bit of insanity when it seemed they'd likely kill him before the three minutes were up.

He was close to believing they were doing another false pause when soon no more attacks came. The ringing his ears became overwhelming sharp without warning and his face was dropped to the ground. Yugi didn't dare lift his head or dare think it was over. He waited, prayed, silently wishing for reprieve.

He chanced turning his head to the side and saw a pair of dark shoes, attached to a pair of lithe, long legs.

"Now," the stranger's New York accent pierced the silence like his rapid three gunshots. Horrified screams trailed behind each shot. "Shut up, I said shut up, I barely grazed ya!" The shoes stepped forward. Yugi saw them aiming straight for the flopping figures on the ground. When a warning shot left the gun muzzle, all fell quiet. And Yugi's heart rate spiked. "Before I start lightin' up this whole block, I'm gonna ask the three of you's, one damn time. What the fuck is goin' on?"


	2. Fixed

**Author's Rant:** Thanks to everyone who's interested in this type of story. I was worried the general premise of gangs wouldn't be taken too well. Enjoy! ^_^

* * *

**Fixed**

* * *

Yugi felt his sides burning, his hand ached and whenever he tried to blink, it felt like someone was pinching his eyelids. He was scared out of his mind after getting a glimpse of the newcomer's shoes and legs. Gunshots echoed in his ears as loud as his heartbeat. It was too dark to understand what was going on. Everything funneled to him like vibrations beneath an ocean.

His heartbeat slowed down. Yugi closed his eyes, weariness overtaking him. He was jolted awake when more gunfire hung in the air. _'Oh god please,'_ he whispered in his head. '_Please, please, don't let me go out like this. You took my brother from my grandfather. Don't make him suffer a second time. Please, let me live through this.'_

Yugi was growing cold, so very cold, despite the evening's humidity and warmth.

He heard music coming after what felt like hours. It was all he remembered before the world became dark and airless.

* * *

This was J.R.'s favorite part. Play nice at first, but when they tried to act stupid, he had all the reasons he wanted to do as he wanted. The O.G. had been suspicious of these three for a while. It was bad enough knowing they were doing wrong, but being caught in the act was just plain insulting. That spoke volumes of how arrogant they were becoming and how much they respected authority.

"I don't like repeating myself," Joey cocked his gun and pointed. He pulled the trigger twice, a round for every tug surging forth in a spark of orange. C.J. and Red howled in tune, like a pack of wolves serenading the night, as they clutched their bleeding thighs, tossing and flopping on the dusty ground. That was five bullets wasted Joey could've used on some blue bloods but here he was draining ammo with these fools. Fucking ridiculous. "Anyone wanna spill their guts now, or do you need another pick-me-up?"

Blondie had been the only one spared a second helping and did his best to sit up, bandaging his right arm with his left hand. "Why the fuck you shot us for? Fuck, oh fuck," he whined and gasped, body numbing. "I can't believe this motherfucka' shot me. And you shot them twice? Christ!"

"Ya feelin' left out?" Joey asked quietly. "'Cause I got six mags on me and nothin' but time."

Blondie wheezed and inhaled like holes were punctured in his lungs, gripping and flexing his fingers were blood seeped through. His eyes glared up at his senior leader, defiance and fear mingling all over his square face and red tinted eyes. "Man, whatever it is ya heard, I'm tellin' ya you got the wrong ones. We didn't do squat!"

J.R. frowned, hazel eyes narrowed, "Are you kiddin' me right now?" Blondie coughed and whimpered and mumbled under his breath, unfolding his hand to see the red puddle collecting in his palm and glued it back to hold in the rest of his blood. He looked close to cussing Joey out in three different languages but realizing the situation, smartly keep his trap zipped. "You really wanna play ignorant, Blondie?" Joey continued on. "'Cause I can play too. Yeah, I think I will. How's about I just cap all of you's and call it a fuckin' night! How's that sound?"

"Wait, wait, wait," That was C.J. rolling on his side, glancing up Joey's jeaned legs, hoping to find mercy in those eyes. "Whatever's goin' on, I swear I ain't have shit to do with it. I swear on my mama's grave, I didn't do shit!"

"Fuckin' cope out!" Red shouted and gasped. "The fuck y'all actin' scary for? We didn't do anything wrong! He's just runnin' around throwin' bullets 'cause he's just lookin' to pin shit on somebody!"

Joey cocked his eyebrow around the same time his finger relaxed off the trigger, "What cha' say?" This was another pet peeve of his. Joey couldn't stand the ones who liked to talk stupid. If they want to be dumb, he can do the same. "Speak up, Red. Don't pussy out now," he said once stopping in front of his subordinate.

Red glanced upward, one hand on his arm and the other masking the punctured hole near his knee.

"Fuck you!"

J.R. sighed. He rubbed the gun's muzzle against his temple. The mouthy ones always want to be trouble. Just like children. If you spared the rod too much, they usually ended up overruling the parents. Joey stepped forward, drew his leg back and kicked it across Red's face, smirking when his jawbone made a wet crack.

"_Fuck me_? Really? You wanna say that to the man holdin' the 9mm?"

Red yowled loud and crazed as a wild dog, blood gushing from his split lip and nose, "Ah damn!" he shouted, hands diving from his leg to his face, and his arm.

Joey stared the other two down. "Anybody else wanna jump stupid tonight or are you willin' to talk?"

"Talk about what?" C.J. whined miserably, blood flowing from his wounds like a broken faucet. "What did we do?"

Joey's patience was thinner than paper. He aimed his gun up and let off three sharp shots in the air, piercing the entire division with a horrid bang, bang, bang. "Does it look like I'm fuckin' playin', C.J.?"

J.R. wasn't concerned about being caught for firing. The neighborhood knew better because as the saying goes, '_snitches get stitches.' _The precincts around this jurisdiction were half crooked anyway and as soon as stack of Benjamins was tossed, they'd keep patrolling like nothing happened. You didn't have to be in a gang to understand the code of ethics out here. It was common sense and if you were caught ratting out on anyone, well, you'd be wise to run and never stop.

"You wanna know what you did? Fine, since you're all sufferin' memory loss, I'll remind ya," Joey said loud and clear, aiming his gun at the three, secretly pleased with the wide eyed expressions and tears bubbling from their eyes. "Stealin' money from the family. Yeah, that's right, you're caught. You know that ain't how we run things here—kid, I swear if you fix your lips to say you _didn't do it_, I'm shootin' you again!" Joey said specifically to C.J. when he opened his mouth to deny any wrong doings.

The three remained silent, which was just fine with J.R. because he wasn't done. "We've had seven fuckin' houses unable to pay protection fees. Why? Because you've been chargin' extra. So, O.G. is wonderin', hmm, if the houses are payin' extra, where is the extra cash? Who is in charge of collectin' this spot? Oh yeah, it's you three dumb fucks!" Joey paced back and forth, as if reciting a lesson. "How did we figure out you guys were stashin' loot? You can thank ya man here for that." He pointed his gun down at Blondie, who slinked away, shivering. "He got so cocky, he went and bragged to Marlin, Baby Jo, Travis, Luis, and oh boy, you told Dee Dee? You know he can't hold spit right?"

Joey pivoted on his heel, stroking the barrel of his pistol, chuckling and aware of the scrambling and shuttering the trio was doing. Joey soaked their fear up like a sponge. "So, O.G. and I kept quiet about it for a minute, ya know, just to see if you'd man up and tell us what's goin' on. But you never did. For three months we watched and waited, watched and waited, then we watched some more and waited some more. Still no Blondie, no Red and no C.J."

The three shared a horrified look and stared at the ground, at times sneaking peeks at where Joey's muzzle was pointed. It was over and they knew it. If you double crossed the O.G., you're pretty much saying '_to hell with the family_.' Because that's what the RES was; a thoroughly established family who looked out for one another, but if one such person wanted to disregard the family, the favor could be returned.

Joey stopped walking in the middle of the three and squatted down to eye level, gun dangling from his index between his knees. His honey brown eyes stared at each one in turn. "Now here we are, all together, but not as a happy family. If da' O.G. ain't happy, I'm not happy and if I'm not happy, somebody's likely ta' suffer a beat down." Joey thumped the barrel of his gun on C.J.'s sneaker, "Is it ringin' a bell now, C.J.?"

C.J. dramatically curled his leg inward, side-glancing his partners like they had the ability to get them out of this. J.R. could see the gears turning in their heads a mile a minute. They knew they'd run out of options. Instead of defending themselves, they kept quiet, hands aimlessly trying to figure out what bullet wound was worth saving over the others.

"I know this feeling," said Joey. "It's that nasty moment when you don't know what's gonna happen next. That sick feeling's called karma. You were caught red handed; now the only thing left is punishment."

As soon as he said the P word, Joey couldn't believe his eyes. Red, big mouthed, uppity Red, started to cry. His shoulders were bumping with each soft hiss and his lips balled tight as a zipper. Red slowly lowered his hand from his swollen jaw and lifted his glazed eyes, heaving and tearing up. "This is bullshit man. I needed that money. I got a family to take care of. But is the O.G . tryin' to hear that? Hell no."

"Excuse me?" J.R. asked, scowling hard.

"Ya heard me. My girl pregnant, and she got another kid I treat like he mine and, and, and," he hiccupped. "I just needed the money man."

Joey stared at him with his mouth agaped for a moment, and then slowly shook his head. It took a moment; several in fact, for Joey to contemplate his next move as he lazily tapped his gun against his cheek. "Ya know what I hate more than anything in the world?" Joey rose to his feet, index easing off the trigger. Brown eyes narrowed thin as razor blades, and he sneered like a canine, lips pulling over his teeth.

The anger came and went in a breeze. He stepped around and stood directly over Red's head, "Answer me Red. What do I hate more than anything?"

Red paused, forehead scrunched in confusion.

When he didn't answer, Joey did for him. "I fuckin' hate liars." He pressed his gun to the side of Red's head and pulled the trigger three times. The discharge left an eternal ringing in the air. Silence came, thick as the settling fog. Red's body thumped on the ground and stayed there, the dirt stained in a pooling gleam of maroon.

"Lying ass." J.R. despised liars as much as he couldn't stand taking out the trash. Red using his dead daughter as a stepping stone to freedom was the lowest of the low. He had no girlfriend. She'd left his ass seven months ago and was pregnant with another man's baby. How did they know? The O.G. made it his business to keep track every member's lives, inside and outside the gang.

Now with the remaining two . . . Joey glanced over at them, quivering and whimpering like abused puppies. He couldn't help that now could he? They should've thought of the consequences beforehand. He inhaled the night's looming humidity, the scent of gunpowder filtering in the mist and then unloaded his gun. Blondie busily traded his wet eyes from J.R. to the lifeless lump next to him and then to the ground. C.J. was a wreck, rolled on his side, blubbering like a newborn baby. They could cry all they fucking wanted. Joey had no sympathy for traitors.

Joey jerked his head up when the ground started vibrating beneath his feet. He rolled his eyes. Coming down the narrow strip of dirt road was a 2012 dark purple Suburban LTZ with twenty four inch lavender and chrome rims, jet black tinted windows and mercury colored headlights. The bass system in the back was ridiculously loud, so much so the brushes rustled, and the rocks bounced. When the vehicle came barreling through, it rolled to a rumbling stop. The music stayed on, muffled within until the driver's door opened and Lil Wayne's and Drake's 'Love Me' could be heard clear as a bell.

_I'm on that good kush and alcohol  
I got some down bitches I can call  
I don't know what I would do without y'all  
I'mma ball til the day I fall_

_Yeah, long as my bitches love me (yeah, yeah)  
I can give a fuck 'bout no hate  
Long as my bitches love me  
I can give a fuck 'bout no n*****  
Long as these bitches love me_

The owner stepped out of the car, looking every bit as pissed as a bull, stalking forward with the aura of a predator. Thief was tall, maybe an inch over Joey. Disorderly, smoke gray hair was messily combed in every direction it wanted to go, banes hanging over his razor thin eyebrows and vicious mulberry eyes. A red bandana was tied around his neck like a loose noose. His facial feathers were sharp and angular and his neck was thick as a tree branch, navigating down to wide broad shoulders and a magnificently muscled chest. His skin tone was like melted caramel, and out for public display because he was only wearing some dark blue heans and Timberland sandals. His right arm was tattooed from his wrist to his shoulder with symbols of his name and RES4LIFE.

"Sup, Thief," Joey greeted, performing the difficult handshake known and memorized by all RES members.

Thief snorted, "Not much, man. I'm tired as hell. Got places to be, and shit to smoke."

"I know that's real."

"This better be good if O.G. didn't wanna explain what was going on over the phone."

"He didn't tell ya?"

"Nope, he said you'd do the honors."

Joey grinned like he'd just hit the lottery. Oh he was going to enjoy this part, "You two sit tight a bit." He gestured to the cowering thugs and escorted his partner to the side and explained everything from point A to point B. No detail was spared. Joey relayed everything and as the story unfolded Thief's lips split into a Great White grin, revealing every sharp tooth in his mouth.

"Worddddd?" Thief laughed out loud, a rough baritone rumble in his chest. "You mean I'm missing my dick getting sucked 'cause these couple of pussies were slinging cash? Are you serious?"

J.R. nodded, "As a heart attack."

"Ha, Christmas just came early." Thief cracked his knuckles, making his way over to the two troublemakers.

J.R. made himself comfortable on the front of Thief's suburban and bobbed his head to the hypnotic effects of Lil Wayne's music. The music was vicious against his eardrums and the scent of Purp floating out of Thief's car, nearly distracted Joey from noticing another body on the ground.

The silhouette of someone else—Joey paused where he'd been about to get in the vehicle and reached behind for his pistol. He couldn't tell if the person was low crawling, trying to play dead or already dead. Shit, he'd let off so many rounds, there was no telling if someone got caught in the crossfire. He wandered closer, eyes peeled.

There wasn't mention of a fourth person. Red, Blondie and C.J. had been the only listed suspects. Had they missed one? Had he been crouching in the dark, hoping to be overlooked? Was he biding his time until the opportune moment to shoot?

Those and more were the scenarios playing in Joey's head. Any sudden movements was his automatic right to shoot and question later. The possibility of another traitor was what Joey had envisioned, not the mangled, broken body of that Muto kid. Joey froze, mind boggled that this was the same player he'd seen on the television beaten to an inch of his life. He clipped his gun and reached out to check a pulse.

"Shit," Joey whistled. He was all kinds of fucked up. Those idiots did a real number on the kid, it was a wonder he still had a pulse. Joey whipped out his cell phone and pressed speed dial.

The phone picked up on the first ring, "_Talk to me_."

"Yo', we got a problem. Remember when I said those idiots were at the Muto house? They tried to lay out that Yugi kid."

There was a pause, then, "_Is he alive?_"

"Not for long," Joey mumbled, pressing his index and middle finger over the kid's jugular just to be sure. "He's breathing but they messed him up good."

O.G. sighed, which meant, as Joey knew, he was massaging the side of his head or squeezing his nose. _"I don't have time for this shit," _O.G. grumbled softly, more to himself then his second in command. "_Take him to the hospital and stay put till I give you a call."_

"Will do." The call disconnected and left Joey staring down at the prone body, thinking how he needed to do this. He hated putting himself in this situation, but when you had a tiny little ant of a conscious it had this nagging way of rearing up when it wasn't needed.

J.R. quietly turned Muto's body on its side and pressed his fingertips wherever he saw blood. He wasn't shot or stabbed. However he suffered some other injuries from the feel of it. J.R. hissed under his breath. There were two, no, he counted four cracked ribs; this kid's wrist was broken and his eyes were swelled shut.

Damn.

J.R. looked over his shoulder where Thief was stomping a hole in Blondie's head. This was going to be a long night. "Akefia!"

Thief stopped, foot in midair. "What?" came his irritated answer.

"Don't '_what'_ me asshole. Finish up with that. We gotta make a trip."

"The fuck—where?"

"To the hospital." Joey hunkered down low, scooped his hands under Muto's body, and hurled him over his shoulder like a sack of rocks. "O.G. wants us to take the kid to Kaiba's."

"Like now or _right_ now?"

"Like yesterday dude!" J.R. annoyingly said. "Hurry up!" They needed to get this over with. He was tired, he was dirty and he was still pissed off. After all of this was over, O.G. owned him big.

* * *

When Yugi opened his eyes next, an agonizing throb in his temple robbed him of his eyesight. He shifted and winced. Blinking hurt, breathing hurt, hell, even thinking hurt. Yugi tried again, a little slower, to open his eyes. The right opened a slither, but the left was a no go. Everything was so white, like being inside an egg shell. Bright parallel light bulbs hummed above his head and the scent of sterilization confirmed, to his relief that he was in the hospital.

His arms were numb, his legs felt cold and this poor excuse of a blanket was thinner than toilet paper. When Yugi opened his eye wider, the overhead beams cursed him with a nasty glare. "Ssss, damn," he hissed and coughed. God, it felt like someone was beating his head from the inside with a hammer.

Then, it suddenly hit him why he was in so much pain to begin with.

Those Red Eye thugs; they'd went pass their three minute limit and damn near killed him. There was no way that wasn't planned. They knew from the jump Yugi's family didn't have that type of money on hand. Yugi theorized it being over jealousy or a lousy bet placed on the rival team and they wanted to get their earnings out of him.

That person came too. Some guy in black, or what Yugi judged to be all black, because it was so dark. There were gunshots, some yelling and then nada. He couldn't remember anything beyond the frightening cries and bullets firing off. Somehow he'd missed it and was blessed to be brought here. Yugi settled more comfortably on his pillow, closing his eyes.

His prayers were answered. Grandpa wouldn't have to suffer another loss.

Now, to figure out which hospital he was in because it didn't look like Domino Memorial Hospital. Yugi would know; he'd recognize the stiff beds, daisies placed in every window sill and the fresh peach cups they left for their patients. Nurse Trina worked here; she always treated his sprain wrists, twisted ankles and scraped knees he'd receive after some games. And she was always the usual party to come visit first and turn on the table radio.

This place just didn't have that hospitable atmosphere. It was too desolate and cold. The interior decoration was a strict haven of pure white, as if the smallest stitch of color was unacceptable. There wasn't even a potted plant to accent the large room. A large panel window was at his left. The sun's warm glow purged what it could of the empty chill. A white nightstand sat at the foot of his bed, a white leather armchair was angled in a corner and two doors were positioned to his far right. One was probably the bathroom and the other the exit.

Yugi tried urging his eyes to open again, somewhat aware of his index being inside a blood pressure monitor and something—something soft and cottony was wrapped tight around his wrist. What the hell was—"Ow, ow, ow," Yeah ok. He was still sore. Yugi managed to endure the burning sensation from the natural and artificial lights to turn his head downward. There was gauze wrapped around his entire hand. He lifted his arm up and stared. When had that happened?

Yugi heard a soft swish and the click of a door handle. He frowned and quickly wish he hadn't because it aroused a brand new headache. He groaned, absolutely miserable.

"'Bout time ya woke up, Pretty Boy," an unfamiliar voice said.

Yugi's head rolled to the side, dissipating the light's direct shine and looked to see who came into his room.

His eyebrows rose instantly. Shaggy blond hair was tucked beneath a Dodgers cap, with loose tendrils fanning around. Two mischievous cinnamon brown eyes journeyed from Yugi's face to his toes. He was dressed in a short sleeve green Henley shirt with white trimmings around the collar and sleeves. A pair of low riding grey jeans revealed the black band of his Fruit of the Loom briefs and went down to his white Converse shoes.

The visitor presented a lopsided smile as bright as the white room, as he casually strolled over like he owned every inch and flopped down in the armchair, flipping out the foot rest.

Yugi's gaze zeroed in on the red bandana tied around his neck and the one peeking from his right pocket. Tattoos raced like wild fire up the stranger's right arm, symbolizing RES in a gothic cross, RES centered in gothic letters and RES written inside a red ribbon. Yugi's brow scrunched tight. So, he was one of them; a Red Eyes.

The newcomer grabbed one of the magazines off the night stand and started flipping through it. "How ya feelin'?"

"Lousy." Yugi coughed and tried again. "My head hurts."

A snort, "That's to be expected. You nearly met your maker and I doubt he'd wanna look at that jacked up mug."

Yugi rolled his eyes. Damn it, that caused a world of pain too. When the pain dulled, Yugi half winched, half glanced over at his visitor. "Who're you?" he slurred.

"Nobody you gotta know," the man casually said, flipping a page. "Just lay there and shut up."

"How did I get here?" Yugi grumbled anyway, surveying the room a little more now that his eyesight was gaining strength. "Where _is_ here?"

The blond stranger sucked his teeth, "General Domino Hospital. Now pipe down. I'm tryna' read."

"Where am I?"

"In Domino."

"_Where_ in Domino?"

"Kid, come on?" the man grounded out. "Go back unconscious or somethin'. I don't feel like talking to you!"

"Then tell me what I want to know!" Yugi snapped back. His head started spinning, but he ignored the dizzy spell in favor of an irritated glare. "How'd I get here? What happened to those Red Eyes?" Yugi blinked as it suddenly came piling in at once. "Where's my grandpa? Is he hurt? Did they take the money? Damn it, I gotta get back—"

"Kid, look. . ." There was a deep look of desperation that gave pause to the blond man's rough tone. Maybe, maybe waking up in an unfamiliar area would put anyone in a state of shock. He ran a tired hand over the top of his cap and released a short breath through his nose. "Listen, yer grandpa's fine. We had a couple of people check the house to be sure he didn't get hurt."

Yugi's eyes twitched, on guard, though his body weakened with relief. Grandpa was ok at least. That was one less worry to stress over. "Then what—Hmm!" He opened his mouth to ask another question but found it snapped shut when a hand cupped over it.

"On the South end of Domino, about twenty miles from yer place. No, yer grandpa doesn't know where you are. My name is J.R., no you don't need to know my real name 'cause it's none of your business. Ya happy now? Now shut the hell up and get betta'." J.R. held his palm in place for a full minute to be absolutely sure he'd get some peace and quiet and moved his hand away to retake his seat.

Yugi's lips balled, eyes squeezed at the corners, "Your hand tastes salty."

J.R. looked from his magazine. "And you yap more than a horny Yorkie. Looks like we both got our faults to deal with."

"You could wash your hands."

"You could shut your mouth, but it doesn't look that that's happening." J.R. sighed long and annoyed, tossing the Home Living magazine to the side. He slouched low in the armchair, dragging his hand over his face. "God, help me," he murmured to himself and then straightened up with a twisted expression. "By the way, what the hell were ya doin' fightin' three runners on yer own?"

"I thought you wanted me to shut up."

J.R. smirked. "Answer my question, then you shut up."

Yugi flinched when he flexed his back. Memories repeated in his head like a reflector switch, everything pouring in black and white. Some he wished to forget and the rest he really wanted to forget, "Making change."

A pause, then an amused smirk spread across the man's face. "You volunteered or did they force ya?"

"I volunteered," Yugi said simply. "There wasn't much choice. It was either me or my grandpa." He went quiet a moment, chewing over his blood clotted lip and ducked his chin down to level his gaze with the visitor. "I can have your money by next week if you're willing to wait on it."

"Pfft, don't worry about it. It's covered."

"Covered?"

"Yeah, covered. Your tolls 'bout five c-notes, yeah?"

When the incorrect amount was said, Yugi's face pinched like he smelled something foul. "Five hundred? We haven't paid that in months. It's eight."

"Eight, as in eight hundred?"

"Yeah."

"Since when?"

"About nine months."

"Was it the same goons?"

"No, two others." Yugi didn't understand. It wasn't uncommon for a protection fees to increase. If word spread around about any of the businesses flourishing better than they had previously, another hundred or so was tacked on. Kame's had a gained a slight build in popularity. As Yugi's reputation grew, more people were wanting a chance to meet him and sort out every method possible, one of which, included visiting at the shop during the afternoon when most of the gang members from vacant from the streets. He couldn't comprehend the heated way J.R's hazel eyes flared like he'd been told someone killed his friend.

Yugi discreetly slid under his blankets.

"Is everything ok?"

"Hell no," the blond growled. He snatched a phone from his back pocket and pressed two keys.

Yugi slinked under further, body tensed. The blonde's entire composure flipped like a light switch. Yugi didn't trust Red Eyes. None of them. They couldn't wink without putting the teen on high alert, because the slightest bit of wrongdoing on their side usually meant backlash in the worst possible way.

"Yeah. . . yeah he's awake," the blond said into the phone. Yugi jolted when he heard the conversation directed towards him and frowned. His fingers clenched and flexed beneath the sheets as his eyes follow the man's back and forth pacing. "Nah, everything turned out cool. Thief took 'em to the docks. . . . Huh uh . . . nah . . . Yeah . . . listen we got more of 'em on the loose. That Muto kid said his fee was 'bout eight hundred." The blond sighed and walked over to look out the twenty story window. "That's what I thought. His place's marked for five hundred, ain't it? Said he's been paying eight hundred for nine months . . . nah he said it was two other guys. The three we took out—I mean took care of," J.R. quickly corrected.

Yugi made himself ignore that last part and tuned out the rest of the conversation to focus on an empty space near the entry way.

"They'd only been hittin' other houses with some extra tax thing. They tried to pull a fast one on his house last night. . ." Silence carried in the room for so long, Yugi thought the phone call was over until a loud and angry, "What!" rattled the room. Yugi couldn't help his curiosity this time and gave his full attention to the blond pacing back and forth at the foot of his bed. "Yer kiddin' right? . . . Ah, come on O.G., we're not some kind of charity. Money is money!. . . . Oh fuck me, ya gotta be jokin'—what, no, I'm just sayin', why does he get special treatment?" The blond suddenly pulled the phone away and stared at it like it sprouted an extra head. "You want me to what? . . . Three G's? Three fuckin'—wow, just wow. Yeah. . . yeah." Whatever was said esd definitely not in his favor. "Fine, I'll take care of things here. . . then I can go? . . . Damn it. Alright, I'll see ya then." J.R. tapped the phone off and swirled around to face Yugi with a strange look.

A very long, strange look. Yugi sat up a little, winching from the pull and tugs on his bruises. His eyes strayed on J.R.'s grabbling hands and the way his lips were pressed firmly together, almost glued. There was something damn near unwavering. Yugi's hand nervously reached up to plow through his chaotic spikes.

"What now?" Yugi asked. "Is something wrong?"

"Shut up," came the cold tenor. The man said it soft, though the words carried more weight than a block of steel. Yugi slowly leaned away, on edge when the blond started to reach behind his back and pulled out a brown paper bag.

"W-what are you doing?" Yugi started to panic, clumsily backpedaling himself up against his headboard.

Hands going behind your back were never a good sign. Yugi knew that first hand. He'd seen it enough to understand the implications and the results always came out the same.

Paper crinkled, something sharp flapped and the snap of a rubber hand nearly sent Yugi into cardiac arrest. The silence to follow was as awful as not knowing. As soon as he'd heard the snap, Yugi closed his eyes and waited. He let himself open his best eye and glanced up.

"Here."

A paper bundle was thrust in his face, an inch from his eyes. Two red rubber hands were wrapped on both ends and it was less than half the size it was when Yugi first saw it. Hesitantly, he reached out and took the package in his hands and kept his eyes steady, "What is it?"

"Back pay," the blond seemed less than pleased to say. "M'boss says that's what you're owned."

Yugi's expression perked, surprise wrenching his swelled eyes open. "Why?"

"You're seriously askin' why someone gives ya money?"

"Yeah, when it's so sudden," Yugi grumbled, undoing the bonds on the supposed refund.

Yugi had heard stories of the legendary O.G., but beyond that they were just that, stories. None of them ever ruled him as a good Samaritan, out to spread blessings and good fortune. Granted Yugi had never laid eyes on the Red Eyes O.G. and he thanked his lucky stars for that. Despite rumors and unreliable descriptions of what he looked like, one thing Yugi knew was true was the Red Eye Leader's ruthless behavior. He was a killer, evil and, cruel. Yugi had heard about the time the O.G. had secured a twenty square mile territory in one whole night, and that was by himself with a box cutter. There were more stories of how he had connections within the Kaiba Corporation and ties with several police stations, but those could be as phony as any other rumor. Regardless, Yugi wouldn't be the first to deny them. As far as South Domino was concerned the RES O.G. was at the top of the food chain and no one dared to disrespect his wrath.

Yugi slipped off the rubber bands and unrolled the paper. One stack of perfectly crisp bills landed in his lap, fresh as the first day they printed.

"W-wait, this is . . ." Yugi stuttered. "There's so much."

The blond arched a brow, totting his lips to the side of his mouth, "It's the difference subtracted from the fees you've already given. You're only supposed to pay five hundred."

Yugi shook his head, "I can't take this."

"Come again?"

Yugi finished rewrapping the cash and pushed it to the end of his bed, "I don't accept money from your kind."

Hazel eyes darkened several shades. "What's that supposed to mean? You think you're too good for our money or something?"

"No, that's not it." Yugi fidgeted, eyes draw to the space between his legs. Then he lifted his gaze with as much pride and determination. "Tell your boss I appreciate the generosity, but I refuse to take it. There's always some kind of catch when taking money from gangs. I'd rather not get involved anymore than I am. I'm sorry," Yugi bowed his head. "Thank you, but no."

"So lemme get this straight. You don't want your money back—mine you, it's yours—because you think we have some hidden vendetta? We're giving you money kid. You honestly think we'd want something from your scrawny ass? The fuck outta here, even explainin' it sounds stupid." The man pushed the money towards Yugi. "Just take the money. You ain't got squat to offer us."

"I don't want your money."

"Look, orders are orders. I can't take it back. You gotta keep it."

Yugi pushed it away. "I don't want it."

The man pushed it right back, "I said keep it."

"No!"

"Yes!"

Yugi took the bag and lightly tossed it in the chair next to his bed. When he turned it was with a hardened glare that could easily rival RES member. "I don't affiliate myself with gangs and that means not taking your dirty money—"

The blond stepped into Yugi's face, devouring the entire right bedside with his presence. A malicious grin was the only warning Yugi got before he was suddenly shoved flat on his back, J.R's large hands wound tight in his hospital gown. Yugi's eyes bulged out of his head, staring up at the person straddling his waist. "You're cute kid, but don't get ahead of ya self. I'm not feelin' that tone of voice, so I suggest ya change it. Unless ya want both yer eyes shut fer good?"

Yugi's head nodded fast as a bobble head. "No, I'm good," he murmured.

"Alright then." When the blond abruptly released Yugi's gown, Yugi stayed perfectly still out of caution of possibly offending the man anymore then he has. The teen gulped, lips balled tight and watched as J.R. unlooped his leg over Yugi's body, his piercing, manic brown eyes glaring out the window. He wanted to move, hell, Yugi wanted to hightail it out of there as fast as his wobbly knees would take him. Something was anchoring his body down in the same place, clamped on all sides by chains of fear. He didn't know what to think, how to react; he could only stare, unsure if he should move.

Yugi jumped out of his skin when something was thrown in his lap.

It was his cell phone.

"Call someone to come get you," J.R. roughly barked. "Hurry up!"

"Ok, ok." Yugi pressed in the password, damning his quaking fingertips for mistyping several times before getting it right. He couldn't call his grandfather. That only left one person. Yugi sighed and dialed.

Tristan picked up after the first ring, _"Where the hell are you?!"_

Yugi nearly dropped the phone. "Hello? T-Tristan?"

_"Do you have any idea how worried I was? I rode to your house to find it trashed and you aren't anywhere in sight? Christ man, I nearly called the police!"_

"Sorry, I'm sorry," Yugi mumbled after Tristan took a breath. "Things got . . . a little out of hand last night."

"_No shit, where are you?"_

"General Domino Hospital."

"_How the hell did you get out there?!"_ Tristan shrieked.

"Please Trist' stop yelling. My head's killing me," Yugi whined, flopping backwards. "Can you pick me up, please? I'm in room, um." Puzzled, he turned and looked to find J.R. looking at him. "One sec Trist'. What room number is this?" he asked.

J.R. lifted an eyebrow, "602."

"Thanks," Yugi nodded. "It's room 602."

_"I'll be there in a jiff. Don't talk to anyone or eat their food. And when I get there, I want a full explanation. No if, ands or buts, you understand?"_

"Yes mom," Yugi chuckled.

"_That's right, 'cause mother knows best, you idiot."_ The phone disconnected. Yugi was left alone once more to deal with the blond haired gangster and thought twice about engaging him in conversation again. That was like tempting a pit bull with a raw steak.

The blond whipped out his phone a second time and spoke into it again in a much quieter voice. Yugi slowed his breathing and jerked when the phone was snapped shut. J.R. frowned out the window.

"Yer pal's here."

Yugi stiffened. "Oh."

"I'll tell the nurse to let 'em up," The blond sniffed, shoving his hands in his pockets. "Keep the cash. Do something nice fer yer grandpa or whatever. I don't give a shit. Just stay outta trouble." He slinked out the door without another word.

Yugi felt himself able to fully let himself relax and sunk as deep as the mattress allowed, wishing his heart wasn't pounding ridiculously fast. Had he been scared? Yes. Was he willing to stand up to a RES? Sure was. Was it worth risking his life? Hell no. He enjoyed living thank you very much.

Though he doubted he'd be living much longer when Tristan got in here. Yugi prepared himself for that ear bleeding lecture and sighed, turning on his side.

The angle put his face in direct line of the rumbled wad of cash thrown in the armchair. An immediate frown animated on his face. None of this money was his. It belonged to the neighborhood, to those the gangs harassed for the dangers they created. It wasn't fair to take it. Why couldn't that guy realize that? It wasn't out of pride. It was principle. It was dangerous to take money from gang members.

And yet . . .

Yugi's frown softened.

It was considerate of the O.G. to fix his mistakes. And Yugi was always raised to thank those who did right by him. So . . . he if wouldn't keep the money, why not return it? Yeah, yeah that's what he'd do. Yugi smiled the first time since yesterday evening and settled into his bed bunk. As soon as he was well enough, he'd find that J.R. guy and ask him to relay a message.

Or better yet, properly thank the O.G. for himself.

* * *

They were having a meet tonight; O.G. was on edge about something. It had to be big if he was assembling the senior members and leaders at once. The evening was late, a little after eleven thirty. The sky full of wispy stringed clouds with the moon pleasantly glowing. The property up ahead was a manicured, well kempt home sitting on six acres of land on the outskirts of Domino, away from most prying eyes and robust sounds of traffic. A rust colored tile-roofed Mediterranean-style home about twenty thousand square feet, stretched from one end to the next like the scene from a modernized past in the 1900s. It was two stories from top to bottom, a large three car garage to the left and three side doors to the right, all closed tight. The Victorian fountain in the middle of a cultivated bush was shut off, not a sprinkle of water spilling from its overlapping layers.

Around the winding driveway sat four vehicles; a jet black '96 Chevy Impala SS, comfortably settled on twenty six inch black rims and dull crimson inserts. The next car was parked two feet behind dressed in polish, gunmetal gray '68 Impala nestled tight on platinum chrome twenty inch rims. These belonged to the O.B.G. and O.L.G.

The next car parked on the lawn was a dark red 2010 Toyota Tundra, windows tinted pitch black, with light gray interior leather and all four wheels hugged on twenty inch gold chrome rims. The final car hanging on the outside of the three car garage was 2011 pearl colored Dodge Charger SE. The owners of these were the B.G. and O.L.

The last car to arrive, whipping hard around the circular pathway was J.R.'s black Tahoe. His expression was mellow and his eyebrows creased in a tight fold. Something was pushing him the wrong way about tonight for some reason.

Joey hoped out, surveying the lot and the large house that took him in when no one else wanted too. He was raised here, learned how to be a killer and here was where he became a part of a family. It was home sweet home and his safe haven from the real world.

J.R. was wearing a dark red sleeveless hoodie, and a white wife beater with black acid washed jeans, hanging loose off his hips and low top black and red Air Forces Ones. A casual outfit for a less than casual evening, but everyone knew his style. He did what he wanted, when he wanted.

J.R. knocked on the door twice before stepping in. There were at least eight pairs of shoes near the door and his pair became the ninth. His footsteps swished on the cherry wooden floors of the creamed interior hall, curving around a wood panel ceiling, descending further to where the he could hear deep voices conveying from one end to the other. The walls had styled paintings, mostly expensive abstracts of native landscapes and a few of African wildlife.

He made a sharp right into the opening of a living room foyer. A fireplace illuminated the wide spaced décor. Two large creamed laced sofas were positioned facing each other and on each sat a gangster noble. There was another couch, two Victorian chairs and in the center of the area closest to an alabaster stone fireplace, was a single armchair and in it sat the longtime leader of the Red Eye Spades.

Joey took his seat next to the only other three senior members besides himself, Seto "Slim" Kaiba, Valon "Aussie" Dartz and Akefia "Thief" King. "Sup guys," Joey did the signature handshake with each senior.

"You're late, Pup," said Seto, dressed in a long white Armani trench coat and black jeans and dress shirt.

Joey shrugged. "Had business to take care of. Not everybody's got flunkies like you."

"You didn't miss much anyway." Akefia yawned, resting his chin on the back of his knuckles. "Just a bunch of the same ole', same ole."

Valon chuckled. "Quick grumbling. It ain't like ya had much ta' do anyway."

"Fuck you, wallaby," Akefia said, bored.

"Anytime you can handle it."

"Right in your mouth."

"Excuse me?"

"Knock it off, both of you," Seto snapped quietly. "Show some respect. We're in the presence of the leaders."

Valon leaned back, crossing his arms, and Akefia went the opposite direction.

The higher rank members of the group got settled together around the couches and Victoria chairs.

The O.B.G. (Original Baby Gangster) Raphael Dartz, O.L.G. (Original Lady Gangster) Mai Valentine, B.G. (Baby Gangster) Mahado Shinkan and O.L. (Original Lady) Ishizu Ishtar.

Everyone was here and accounted for. The ones that mattered. Whatever conversations being discussed were silenced by a swipe of the Yami "O.G." Sennen, who was wearing a solid black, Armani three piece, buttoned up, with a crimson tie, red breast napkin and matching vest creased to perfection. His legs were crossed, right over left, and in his right hand was a neatly rolled blunt, halfway finished.

Yami stood from his seat and acknowledged everyone with a single nod, "I trust everything's been running smoothly after the weak links were eliminated?" he questioned.

"Almost," Joey answered. "We found one but the other ditched. Ain't no tellin' where he went."

"That's fine, he'll come back. He has a sister running that laundry mat on Brooklyn, yes?"

"Yep."

Yami jutted his chin toward Valon, "Take care of that for me."

"Understood," The teen answered promptly. "Tonight or tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow preferably. Make sure it's well-advertised," said Yami. The two traitors mentioned before by that Muto were immediately identified and tracked. One was caught but the last one was still MIA. No worries though. By the time he returned, he'd find his sister's head placed on his pillow. Yami finished the rest of his smoke and flicked the dull end in an ash tray. "There's one more bit of information to discuss." He drew everyone's attention with the gradual decline of his voice. "Some runners spotted a couple of Blue Eyes near our Eastern Border."

Joey responded first. "Who were they?"

"Foot soldiers, no one important, but the fools were brave enough to rob a civilian within our lines." A servant entered the room. Yami snapped his fingers and pointed to the empty glasses. The young woman was frail as a reed and quiet, filling wine flutes and short glasses with wine. She kept her eyes sown to the patterns on the carpet, never daring to lift her eyes up even when she left the room. Yami gestured for everyone to take their drinks, "I had a runner trail them back near the docks. This is the third sighting this month."

Joey punched his right hand to his left palm, "Those jerks are getting bold. We oughta go rough 'em up a lil' bit and reclaim a few pieces of dirt. We lost Emerald Landing to them three weeks ago. They even tried to rob the convenient store on Fifth and Broad street!"

"That's too close. They're closing in on the Mediums tuff," Mai said, lips smoothly curved around her wine glass. "I haven't heard them get this riled up since . . ." Her lips thinned, and her eyes sharpened. "Oh, I see," she said when silence came instead of a verbal answer. "_Atem's_ back in town. No wonder they're running around with brass between their legs." She draped one elegantly long leg over the other, gently splitting apart of the opening of her soft red cocktail dress. "So what now?"

"We'll need to have someone keep us posted on when he actually arrives in Domino. I'll have Keith set up at the border and call us with the details," Mahado suggested airily. "Atem's no threat to us so long as he remembers where his reign ends and ours begins."

"I disagree," Raphael spoke at last, folding his arms. "Why prolong it any longer then we have too? Atem's likely to stir up trouble just for the hell of it. He'd fuck the Pope before shooting him between the eyes."

Joey flinched. "That's dark."

"But not far from the truth," Yami murmured. "The Mediums are scheduling a meeting for us to attend Friday. I want each of you there as witnesses, but no more. The rest is between me, Atem and Maximillion. That means no sudden outbursts or random rejections," Yami pointedly said and smirked at Joey. "No secretly organized revolts without my say," This time he looked at Seto, whom upturned his nose and snorted, "and absolutely no sorts of rebellious drive-byes." It was Akefia and Valon's turn to receive a subtle warning and the two averted their eyes away. "This'll be settled as it is each year, without incident and without bloodshed."

Silence crept after Yami's announcement as the high ranks shared looks, mostly disturbed and others mentally collaborating together over their next course of action.

Ishizu politely cleared her throat, gathering everyone's attention "And when the meeting is over, Yami? What then?"

"As soon as we leave Medium territory," Yami's eyes darkened ominously, "then all bets are off."

* * *

**TBC: I'll explain some things. Though Joey is marked as a senior member, he is Yami's right hand man. Gang ranks are based on who's lived on the street the longest. RES= Red Eye Spades. BEA= Blue Eye Aces.**

**I'll explain the same chain of command for the Blue Eyes and the smaller Medium gang in the next chapter. And Yugi meets both Atem and Yami.**

**Leaders**

OG (Original Gangster) Yami

OBG (Original Baby Gangster) Raphael Dartz

OLG (Original Lady Gangster) Mai Valentine,

BG (Baby Gangster) Mahado

OL (Original Lady) Ishizu Ishtar.

**Senior Members (All equal in terms of power)**

Joey Wheeler (Has more pull)

Seto Kaiba

Akefia King

Valon Dartz


	3. First Acquaintance

**Author's Rant:** Someone asked if I'll be doing the usual pairings in this story. My answer is no because the majority of stories here have the exact same pairings each time (puppy, tender, bronze, etc.) I don't plan to do the same. Will there be more yaoi pairings besides Mobiumshipping? Absolutely. Now enjoy babycakes.

~_Side Note~: After much thought, I've changed Atem's age but not by much. Also a few corrections were made in the chapter~_

* * *

**First Acquaintance**

* * *

Yugi was grateful for Friday afternoon. It seemed to be the most convenient escape from his friends during lunch because of the congested crowds.

It'd been a full week since he'd been released from Domino General. He counted his blessings when the nurse diagnosed his injured wrist as just a sprang and wouldn't hinder him from playing in the finals in a couple of months. The news was a relief for his coach, but as for his teammates and friend—after of course, Tristan so happily relayed details of that fight he had last week—Yugi hadn't had a moment's peace since Monday. His friends refused to let him out of their sight, acting as his personal body guards if anyone so much as hinted being dangerous.

They were afraid for his safety and his teammates were concerned about the results of the finals. Both were endearing sure, but God. They took it a little far. He couldn't even go to the bathroom without someone caboosing him. This in turn, left him unable to complete his mission of returning the wad of cash hidden in his backpack. He felt a little guilty for keeping Tristan out of the loop but Yugi knew if he so much as whispered about trying to sneak into Red Eye territory, Tristan would ground him for years and not hesitate to tell his grandpa.

That didn't mean Yugi would give in so easily. It was just a matter of timing.

Yugi would think of something later. For now, he wanted to enjoy the vast blue skies and trickles of clouds lazily breezing by. He was snugged on the comfortable green grass sloped beneath his back with some of the morning dew still clinging to the blades. This portion of school was forgotten during lunch hour. Everyone was always so busy trying to get the last cut of Today's Special Lunch Bread. Yugi rested his head on top of his crossed arms, mindful of his wrist and stretched out his legs, a relaxed smile pinching his mouth. It was so lovely today. All those moments of worry, stress and anxiety seemed to ooze from his pores and into the gentle winds.

With all this quiet atmosphere, it left Yugi's mind brewing over ideas of how he'd go about getting to the Red Eye's O.G. He couldn't simply walk into the heart of their territory. It was absolute suicide and possibly a public execution. Regardless of his status in the city, the Red Eye Spades rarely gave a damn about who you were, where you were born or how rich you were. Blood was the same color no matter how it was spilled to them.

So . . . what could he do?

Yugi gave a jaw cracking yawn and slightly shrugged. Oh well, he'd think of something. He wasn't going to let it control his mind. It was too beautiful a day to give that ruthless band of tyrants even an inch of his head space.

Yugi had ditched his royal blue blazer to lounge in his short sleeve, white button up shirt and royal blue pants. His blazer was folded and draped over his book bag.

"Yugi Muto, where on earth have you been?"

Yugi's entire body tensed, than slumped when recognizing the accent. His eyes rolled up and he smiled as Ryou Bakura King's upside down face came into view. Out of his many friends, Ryou was one Yugi could somewhat relate to the most for personal reasons. He had his own small ties with the Red Eyes gang but possibly more so than Yugi. It was a subject the foreign exchange student rarely discussed. He was dressed as casual as Yugi, wearing only his short sleeve white shirt and blue slacks. He had endless white hair and the softest pair of chocolate brown eyes that could rival a puppy.

"Oh, it's just you Ryou." Yugi sat up, and bent his right leg, hooking his wrist over the knee. His bright purple eyes rotated on either side of Ryou's body before peering up at his friend. "Did you come alone?"

"Naturally," chuckled Ryou. "You're terrible, you know, wandering off so far from the others. Tristan's combing half the school looking for you." Ryou shimmed his way down next to Yugi's side, and unzipped his book bag to retrieve two neatly tied bento boxes. "He's got Tea, Rebecca and Duke scrambled about like mad dogs. I wouldn't want to be around when he finds you here," he said, handing over Yugi's share of lunch.

"Thanks, but I'm not worried about Tristan. He'll get mad, rip and rave all day then ask me to help him with his homework." Yugi opened his lunch box, and nearly burst with glee. It was Ryou's week to fix their lunches and he'd fixed a banquet. There were slices of roasted lamb smothered in gravy, a steamed bowl of assorted vegetables, deep fried potato chips and a small star shaped plastic bowl with this week's British dessert, treacle tart. "You've outdone yourself this time," Yugi praised. "I can never resist your roast lamb."

Ryou chuckled. "Well, I thought this suited the occasion. It's such a beautiful Friday, so why not top the afternoon with a pleasant meal?"

"Here, here," Yugi agreed, unsnapping his chop sticks. They ate and talked some of the afternoon away, even going so far as to skip next period to catch up. Yugi tapped Ryou's shoulder sometimes and when the white haired teen wasn't looking, Yugi would stag a piece of steamed carrot or potato chip. Ryou hadn't gotten back in town until a couple of days ago. He'd been on holiday since last week, visiting family in Britain.

"So," Ryou began after they'd finished eaten and taken to reclining on the grassy hill. "Tristan's told me what happened."

Right. Yugi sighed. Just because Ryou was out of the country, didn't mean he wouldn't be caught up with the daily news via Tristan _'Big Mouth'_ Taylor.

Yugi turned his head to the side and said lowly, "What about it?"

Ryou glanced over his shoulder, secretively thumbing over his hands. "You know I wouldn't ask if I wasn't concerned, Yugi. Making change is no joke, especially when dealing with the Red Eyes. I'm just glad it didn't go further than it had."

"I had it under control."

"I hardly count being jumped as _under control_. You're lucky you only suffered bruised ribs and a sprang wrist," Ryou said and glanced to the side, staring at Yugi's close-eyed profile. "Why would you risk your life like that? You should've just given them the money."

Yugi jack knifed up to sit crossed legged and pierced Ryou with a terrible frown. "So I should just give in to their demands like some whimpering dog? No thanks, I'll pass. I've had enough of having people run over me."

"It was better to be cautious by giving them the money than and living to see another day."

Yugi shook his head. "Me and grandpa need that money, Ryou. The shop's barely getting by as it is with all the violence they throw out every day. Demanding I pay three hundred was pushing it. We would've never been able to keep up with the fees."

"You could've asked for it," Ryou stressed somewhat timidly. "I wouldn't have mind helping you with the difference."

Yugi's face twisted like he'd tasted lemon juice. "Not that I wouldn't appreciate the help, but there is a little something called pride. You think you can leave mine intact or would you rather I grow a vagina?"

"This isn't about your silly pride, Yugi. You could've been killed." This time Ryou sat up and spoke with more fire in his brown eyes. "Money's nothing compared to your life. Did you even consider the consequences? Red Eyes don't always keep their word. You could've been beaten, sure, but who's to say you wouldn't have died from your injuries, or worst been physically incapable of doing things?"

"I don't need a lecture about my decisions," Yugi sneered, turning to fully face his friend. "I did what I needed too to make sure my grandpa was safe and the shop wasn't harmed. If you think I'm a fool for using my body as collateral, then by all means, join the club. Believe me, Tristan harped on me for being an idiot for two straight days and had Tea, Rebecca and Duke fussing as back up."

"That's only because we're concerned!"

"No, it's because you don't think I can handle things my way!" Yugi has had enough of this. If he wanted to be scolded, he could've let Tristan take care of that. Hearing how stupid it was to risk his life, how lucky he was to still be alive and all that jazz, was getting on his nerves. Yugi jerkily gathered his school things before climbing to his feet. "I don't regret what I did for a minute, Ryou. If I had to do it again, I would. Nobody's gonna push me around anymore. I had enough of that from Heba." Yugi turned on his heel prepared to leave when a slow whisper cuffed him in place.

"You're one of the few who still trusts me . . . even treats me like I'm human. You think I'd honestly fuss this much if it wasn't because I was scared to lose you?"

The angry hitch in Yugi's shoulders bowed down as he looked behind himself. Ryou's legs were curled up to his chest, arms crossed over the knees and brown eyes half closed to the world, staring off at the sea of students below. Yugi's eyes shifted from side to side thinking, then rolled his eyes and stomped back over, to squat by Ryou's side.

"Ryou." Yugi cupped his friend's shoulder and squeezed. "You won't lose me. Don't you think if I didn't know what I was doing, I'd do it anyway?"

Ryou dipped his face in the crook of his arms. "Yes," he murmured, voice muffled. "I know you would. You're the one I worry about the most."

"You shouldn't have too." Yugi stretched his arm out to tugged Ryou close, laying his head on the white haired teen's head. "I'm alive now, Ryou. Shouldn't that count for something?"

A soft chuckle. "I see. Live for the moment, instead of dwelling on the past and all that, eh?" Ryou softly bumped his head to Yugi's. "Your choice in words as usual has perfect timing. You've always been good at that."

"I know," Yugi murmured. He pulled away, his eyes silently traveling over Ryou's arm. He glanced up again, sadness entering the depths of his purple eyes. "But just as I don't want to talk about what I do, I doubt you're willing to talk about that." He gestured with his index finger.

Ryou didn't bother to hide it as Yugi slipped his finger under his sleeve and rolled it up. "Damn," Yugi hissed. He hooked his other hand around Ryou's collar and shifted it down too, eyes widening. From the arch of Ryou's neck to the ball of his shoulder were fleshy bloats of blue and tender faints of black. Bruises; and lots of them too.

All the staring made Ryou uncomfortable so he loosened himself and scooted away, "They're nothing."

Yugi's lips pursed.

"Really," Ryou insisted a little stronger. "It was an accident. I ran into a locker door on my way to P.E."

"And against some cosmic probability, it_ hit_ your neck _and_ shoulder," Yugi said skeptically. "I mean, if that's what you wanna go with, have at it. But I'm curious." Yugi crawled around and squatted right in Ryou's face. "How the hell can a locker door suddenly sprout out and chop you in the neck? Was it alive? Because if so, I gotta warn the principal we've got possessed locker doors chopping students in the throat."

Ryou lifted his head at last, blinked, then burst out laughing. It was a long, shy laughter behind his hand as if the very sound might offend anyone near. Yugi ruffled his friend's hair and stood.

"I love to hear you laugh," Yugi mused softly. "It's cute."

Ryou's stopped like someone kicked his mouth shut. His face flared red as a poker as his lips tooted to the side, "Ignorant wanker." Ryou stood up as well, dusting the loosened blades of grass and dirt off his pants. "You better be glad my boyfriend isn't here."

Yugi feigned a shudder. "Yeah, who'd want to deal with that tight ass."

"Come on now, he's not that bad."

"Whatever you say," Yugi said. They walked on to finish up the rest of today's classes. The same as before, Yugi was surrounded by his friends and earned a proper smack on the back of head by Tristan when they arrived to class.

* * *

Again, Yugi was absolutely grateful for today being Friday. As soon as the school bell rung, he was pre-prepared for the crowd to form and had his books, pencils, pens and homework stuffed in his bag. The door couldn't open fast enough. He gripped the doorknob and shot out like home base was being dragged down the hall.

"Yugi!"

Hell no was Yugi stopping. He'd had enough of Tristan's mothering for the week. As if his head wasn't already hurting, Tristan had to lay an extra smack against the back of Yugi's head like the first one didn't get his point across.

Yugi was dodging through the crowded halls, sometimes with his back pressed to the wall to keep from being seen. Tristan was hot on his trail too. Yugi felt like the child hiding in the closet from a spanking. Yugi chanced a peek around a corner and slammed himself back against the wall. Tristan was asking other students if they'd seen him.

That was one of the small downfalls of being the school's all-star baseball player. Every freaking body knew who you were and his wild spikes were no help. Yugi spied around the corner one last time and smiled. Tristan was gone. Good. Yugi darted his eyes from end of the hall to the other and ran out the metal double doors, sprinting to freedom.

But Yugi didn't stop running. As long as he was in range of the school premises, he faced being caught. The sidewalk leading to the rest of the city was all that remained and he was only a hundred meters away. Freedom tasted like the last slurp of a frosty and he would make it. He cut through the cars, dipped and ducked whenever he saw a brunet. Some of the students paused to watch him maneuver all over the place, like the stunt double for an actor. They probably thought he'd gone crazy, but asked if he cared?

When he reached three blocks down that was when Yugi took a breath and bowed to his knees, shoulders raising and falling. Safe. He couldn't believe the lengths he'd go just to avoid his best friend, but with that guy, it was understandable. Yugi had to make a pit stop anyway before heading home. The Domino City Garden Park was not too far from here. He visited every Tuesday and Friday after school to meet with the elementary students. It'd become second nature and sort of his way of displaying himself being an important role model.

Right across the city park was Domino's main public elementary school and about a few yards down was the city's highest paid private elementary school. They released at the same time and Yugi had arrived about two minutes early. The Garden Park was breathtakingly flourished today. The pavement sidewalls all spiraled and darted forward to the center like a twisted maze where an overlapping fountain spewed water. Wherever the grass grew, there were large concrete blocks blooming with different breeds of flower. Marigolds, violets, baby's breath, white and pink azaleas, and some cross breed with wild flowers. Each square shaped block had a cherry wood bench positioned in front of it for parents to watch and observe their children at play. Some would pick the flowers, while the majority wildly climbed and toyed around at the playground.

In the wide open space, Yugi tossed his back pack on a nearby bench and hoped on the concrete block to wait, rocking his legs back and forth. It wouldn't be long now. He had most of the students names memorized and had a special way of ensuring they did well in school. It was the worst kind of bribe but the parents hardly complained. They considered his skill flawless and very much appreciated the extra help.

Yugi stretched his arm out to pluck a few azalea flowers from the bush and after giving it some thought, decided to wander around some other blossoms. He had his arm full when a bunch of squealing voices stopped him.

"Eeeep, guy's Yugi's here, Yugi's here! Come on Mama, we gotta hurry!"

"Hurry daddy, hurry!"

Yugi's smile was wide and bright. He lifted his hand up in a high wave, "What's up kids?" The students, all from different parts of town, races, ages and origins came stampeding to him like he held the secret to life. Today's crop was a little bigger than usual. Half them were dressed in white, and khaki pants and whole dresses with white polo shirts; the students from the public school. Then there were the private school students wearing neatly pressed dark navy blazers, pants and dresses with red ties. For once, Yugi could give himself credit for bringing the kids together without worrying about discrimination.

They all had a common goal and that was getting Yugi's autograph on their homework.

"Over here, Yugi!"

"No, me first, me first!"

"Ok, ok, settle down guys," Yugi called over the group, amused. "I promise to get everybody's books signed, but first tell me who's done well in school today?"

"Me, me, me, me, me, me!" Was all he heard for three solid minutes. That wasn't good enough for some of them, so they held up evidence of a job well done. A's and B's, good comments, and good behavior folders reflected off the sunlight like a sea of strawberry milk. Red markings were written with their teacher's names, the students and the nice marking next to it.

Yugi couldn't help it. He absorbed the blunt of the attention like a sponge. He noticed some of the parents parking and advancing from a distance to observe the amusing spectacle, taking pictures. Yugi nodded to several of them before he pulled out his pen and started writing his signature on the stretched out notebooks, projects, tests and quizzes. He answered questions the best he could and took the surprise hugs of those who wanted more than his autograph. For every little girl he saw, she received a flower in her hair and for the boys, a ruffle on the head.

"Yugi gave me a flower mommy, see? See!" One blonde haired girl excitedly told her mother. "And he said, if I make an A on my test next week, he'll push me on the swing!"

"That's wonderful sweetie."

"Dad, dad, check it out. Yugi signed my homework. And guess what he said? He said he saw me playing basketball yesterday and would get Duke Devlin to help me practice!"

"I have no doubt he will son."

There was more than a fair share of adults who took advantage of getting Yugi's autograph too. Yugi didn't segregate any of his fans. Anyone who wanted one, he'd give it free of charge, with a proud smile and a thank you for their support. Yugi grinned a lot and posed for a pictures, some were humorous, others even more silly. One little girl shrieked after Yugi signed her paper and tore off to her father's car like she was scared someone would steal it.

Within two hours, Yugi and rooted through most of the fans and finished to the few littered here and there. His right hand was cramping like no one's business and his wrist was screaming mercy. At last, when it came to giving an elderly woman his signature and a kiss on the cheek, Yugi went to take a seat on the bench and watch the children run around playing together. The private students and public students were mingled together, difference in wealth, a forgotten memory. They just played.

If only the city could take a lesson from the young . . . maybe there wouldn't be so many broken hearts or deaths to mourn.

Yugi covered his face with his hands and inhaled very slowly, eyes squeezed shut. Then he sighed and lowered his hands to his lap, gradually opening his eyes. It was going to be hell trying to forget about his big brother wasn't it? Seeing all these children playing around, some older siblings protecting their younger brothers and sisters; how could he not feel a roar of jealousy? It wasn't a day spared where Heba wouldn't bring Yugi to the park. He rarely played with him but when he did, Yugi treated the moment like discovered gold. Yugi cherished those moments quietly, his little smiles the only evidence that he'd thought about Heba.

In truth, as much as he despised being placed in Heba's shadow, that didn't stop Yugi from missing him. He missed everything; Heba's rare laugh, his scowl, the way he went quiet when Yugi asked him a question, how protective he was, when he helped Yugi with his homework and even those moments when Heba would act like Yugi didn't exist. It was a part of his personality. Yugi missed everything about his brother. If he could trade in having his brother and being miserable instead of living after Heba's death and being miserable, Yugi would gladly pick the first.

His eyes stung. Yugi swiped at his moist eyes to detour the tears threatening to fill his eyes. He took slow, even breathes, until the sting of loss subsided.

"Excuse me."

Yugi controlled his reaction with a small twitch and glanced out of his hands. A small girl stood three feet away, staring at him with fascinated eyes. She was—Yugi blinked—wow. She was so fair that she seemed almost to be made of crystal – small, fragile looking crystal with a beautiful soft smile. Her long hair was amazingly fine and white, like airless starlight. She was dressed in the private school's uniform, a navy blue blazer, skirt and hat with red tie. Her face was smooth and shining and when the wind blew, Yugi's nostrils flared at the scent of baby lotion and lavender.

Yugi raised an eyebrow and scanned around the park for her parents. He didn't see anyone around who looked close to being related to her. He glanced back at her and smiled, "My name's Yugi Muto," he said. "I don't think you're supposed to be talking to strangers, love. Are your parents around?"

The girl shook her head, disregarding his question, and came forwards, staring at Yugi critically and quite frankly with biggest the pair of blue eyes he'd ever seen. Yugi fought the impulse to touch his face or hair in case something might be on either.

The girl stared at him, and finally said, "You have pretty eyes."

Yugi blushed, "Thanks I guess." Being complimented by a child was very, well, illegal sounding.

"Hm," the girl made a thinking noise, looked Yugi's face over then nodded. "You're Yugi Muto," she said as if Yugi had passed some test and then held out her notebook. "I made an A on my test today and I spelled my name ten times all by myself. Can I have your autograph?"

Yugi gave it to her, ignoring the reviving ache in his hand.

When she stuffed her prize away, she bowed at the waist, "Thank you," and scurried away to where the swings were. Yugi watched her leave, the scent of her trailing off like a discarded ribbon.

Yugi gave the park another glance around. No one around had her looks. He wondered if she'd come alone. It wasn't his business, but he wouldn't leave a child out alone who looked as she did. And for good reason. As soon as Yugi glanced up, he saw where the swings were once overwhelmed with children, suddenly disburse as soon as the pale child picked a swing to sit on. None of them dared to go near her. The child seemed almost suited to the reaction as she settled on the middle swing and kicked her feet out.

Yugi didn't miss the envious glances she sent to the other children or the way her shoulders rose and fell with deep heaves. She couldn't bring herself to swing anymore and just floated on the rubber saddle, to watch. Yugi vaguely noticed something else disturbing. When a child wandered too close, one of the parents came forward to usher them to another part of the playground.

That wasn't right. Yugi's eyes followed after one such parent scolding her son for getting too close to that little girl and they promptly left the park.

The girl pretended to stare at the circles in the sand made by her feet, her blue eyes timidly peeking, almost hopeful that at least one child would come and play.

No such luck. Yugi knew that feeling. It wasn't until middle school when he obtained one friend and later on he'd gained more. No child deserved to be lonely. He grabbed his book bag and made his way over, ignoring the awestruck expressions and gasps. When Yugi reached her, he grunted as he kneeled next to her. She had her blue eyes opened wide, staring forward as large tears fell from the corners like ice water.

Yugi followed her line of vision. There were several girls around her age playing hop scotch and hide and go seek. "You can join them if you want. I'm sure they wouldn't mind."

The girl kept staring. "I want too, but I can't." Her legs bent forward and back. "No one wants to be my friend."

Yugi tilted his head. "Everyone needs a friend."

"Not me. I'm different."

"So am I."

The girl paused where her feet were bent back, seeming to find the grains of sand more interesting. Then, at last, she turned her watery cobalt eyes at Yugi. "But people like you."

"That's because I'm different." Yugi grunted, pushing himself up and went to occupy the swing on her left. His legs hunched up from the short distance from the ground to him.

It made the girl giggle. "You're too big to swing."

"Maybe, but that doesn't stop me from trying." Yugi awkwardly stretched his legs out and pushed forward. It was far too small and tight for him to fit his 5'6 frame but he held on and gave it a go anyway. He hurt his foot when it landed too close to the ground, but it earned him the little girl's cherry sweet giggles. "I'm Yugi by the way," he said offering his hand when he stopped.

More giggles, "I know silly. You told me before."

Yugi withdrew his hand to scratch behind his head bashfully. "Right, so I did. May I have your name, please?"

"Um," the little girl gazed over her shoulder nervously, then turned back to look up at Yugi. At his contagiously bright smile, she smiled back and said, "Kisara. Kisara Hassan."

"Kisara Hassan, huh? That's a very beautiful name."

Kisara blushed, "Thank you." She softly beamed up at him. "You're really nice Mr. Muto."

"You're sweet but call me Yugi. Everyone else does."

Kisara nodded and went quiet. She hummed on her swing and glanced between Yugi and the sand, biting her lower lip. She looked like she was debating on something and started fidgeting with the chain links.

"Are you ok?" asked Yugi.

"Um," she gulped. "Wanna be friends?"

Yugi was completely taken off guard. Kisara's face flushed bright like a strawberry as she looked to the ground, terrified of his reaction.

Yugi saved her the suspense and reached out to tug her hat. "Sure, I'd love too."

Kisara gasped and blinked and stared at Yugi like he'd spoke another language. "Really?"

"Yeah, everyone needs a friend."

Kisara positively glowed and felt her body jolting with electric mirth. "Could you push me? Push me real high?"

"Sure," Yugi circled around and pulled the reels of her swing back and pushed forward. The first pushes gave her a leveled pace, but soon she was crying out with joy and high pitched squeals. Yugi lost track of the time the longer he stayed pushing Kisara on the swing. She'd asked him to catch when she boldly jumped without warning. Yugi scrambled around to catch the airborne child and crashed to the ground, breaking most of her fall with his body.

Kisara wasn't harmed at all. In fact she would've asked to go again, had a deep voice not interrupted her.

"Kisara!"

Yugi's face went ash white as he quickly straightened Kisara on the ground and stepped away. Whoever was coming, he didn't want them to get the wrong idea. He didn't think he'd done anything wrong, but some parents had a different way of assuming situations. Yugi soon gathered his wits and courage and turned around to face whoever was coming.

Yugi's entire body locked up; paralyzed like a deer spotting a jaguar. There was a tall man with hair the color of spilled wine in the middle of a lightning storm, stalking toward them. His shoulders were wide and board beneath a white short-sleeve Ralph Lauren polo shirt. His arms weren't monstrously thick but there were ropes and cords of muscles that said he'd fought many battles and won. His chest seemed to have a silhouette of swelled pectorals, a chiseled abdominal area and . . . damn. Yugi noticed those gray jean-clad legs seemed to go on for miles, or hell years.

He was exotically breathtaking. Yugi's eyes helped themselves to admiring the chestnut skin tone and the way they seemed to reflect in what was left of the afternoon sun. The closer he came, the more stacked in size and height he truly was until stopping no more than two feet from Yugi, towering the teen by a shameful five or six inches.

_Glory, was he real?_ A few strands of the stranger's blond hair fought away from the rest and lay scattered on his forehead, and hovered above his autumn rich eyes. They were dazzling; like looking through a pool of chilled Merlot**.**

"Oh, hello, Daddy," Kisara greeted.

Daddy? Who? Yugi failed miserably to hide the surprise in his eyes. This was Kisara's father? This regal looking god of fine, was her father? He watched the father swing his daughter up in his arms, without a show of effort and together, father and daughter stared at Yugi.

Wait, now with their faces together, Yugi did see a pinch here and there of similarity. The nose maybe, and perhaps the shape of her face—

"Who are you?"

Yugi's eyebrows shot pass his hairline. He stared like a complete fool. And could who blame him? When the man spoke it was like thunder had resonated from in Yugi's stomach and deeped south

"He's my friend, Daddy," said Kisara. She wiggled around to see Yugi's face. "His name's Yugi Muto. He played with me and signed my homework. Oh Daddy, guess what? Yugi says I can have friends even if I'm different."

The man's eyes narrowed. "Did he now?"

Yugi raised his hands in useless protest of his innocence. "I hadn't meant any harm, sir. I was only making sure she was safe. I didn't see anyone around, so . . ." he let his voice trail away in hopes of not offending this person and that he'd catch the hint. When all he received was the thin glare of the man's eyes, Yugi quickly straightened and bowed at the waist. "I sincerely apologize for going near your daughter I was only looking out for her safety. She didn't have anyone else around, so I took it upon myself to keep an eye on her. If I've offended you in anyway, I truly am sorry."

Yugi waited as silence prevailed after his speech. He'd never intended to cause worry, but his overly stupid conscious got the better of him and he couldn't just leave a small girl all alone. Yugi felt his back starting to ache when a small voice jolted him upright.

"Daddy, quit it. You're making your Halloween face again," Kisara fussed, wagging her finger. "Stop being mean. You're scaring my friend."

The man snorted. "He shouldn't be afraid of me unless he's done something wrong. By the way, Miss Mouth, we're gonna have a nice, long talk when we get home about talking to folks you don't know. Am I clear?"

Kisara sighed and tucked her face in her father's neck. "Yes, Daddy."

The man turned his attention to Yugi and held out his hand, "I guess I should say thanks. I wasn't far from the playground. I try to give her space to play, but I don't want a lot of people getting close to her either."

Yugi took the offered hand. "I shouldn't be surprised. She's a very beautiful girl. I'd keep an eye on her too incase some sicko tried to take her. Then I'd have to show off my tough guy side."

"Tough guy side?" the man repeated skeptically. "A young buck like you? You barely look old enough to be potty trained."

Yugi forgot all about his previous anxiety and glared the man up and down like he'd shrunk a few inches, "I'm eighteen with seventeen years of pissing in a toilet." He folded his arms. "Are you young enough to know how it works or do you depend on a diaper, _sir_?" Yugi dragged the final word like razor across paper.

"I'm old enough to remember and teach you how it works, young buck." The man got a kick out of Yugi's sputter choke.

Yugi recovered fast and countered. "Better make sure it's this side of the brain." He pointed to the his right side of his head. "I heard the cells last well into eighty."

"How old do you think I am?"

Yugi opened, thought about it, and quickly shut his mouth. No way was he touching that with a nine in a half foot pole. But could he really back down now? Yugi mentally shrugged and answered anyway, "Twenty six."

"I'm flattered. Add another four years."

Yugi gasped, "You're thirty? No way, you barely look a day over twenty five."

The man winked, "Keep it up, young buck. I love a good ass kisser." Yugi jumped a little when the man's callous thumb stroked over his palm before letting go. "What part of Domino do you live in?" the man asked, wine eyes a shade brighter than before.

"The south border."

The brightest dimmed. "Any association to the Red Eyes?"

Yugi pressed his lips together, "No way, I'm neutral. I don't affiliate myself with any gang. Red or Blue."

The spark returned with a half-lidded, almost alluring hue as the man's full caramel lips turned up a saucy smirk, "A wise decision. Staying neutral ensures a decent living."

"And keeps my family and friends safe." Yugi's eyes trailed over the man's shoulder. The sky was purpling along the horizon. He'd stayed longer than necessary. Too bad he couldn't stay procrastinate a little more from going home. He was enjoying this conversation. "I really have to get going. It was nice talking to you Mr. Hassan."

"Mr. Hassan was my father. My name's Atem."

"That's informal sir."

"I'm an_ informal_ kind of guy."

Yugi's cheeks warmed. It could be his imagination playing tricks but he felt, as well as heard, Atem's earthquake voice vibrate in his chest. The older man wasn't flirting was he? No. God, no. Hell no. No way.

"It's only fair," Atem continued nonchalantly. "I'll call you Yugi and you call me Atem. Unless you're too good for casual acquaintances," he asked lifting a thin eyebrow.

"You say that like we'll see each other again."

"I have no doubt we will, Yugi."

Gracious, this man was a walking sin. Why did the sound of Yugi's name coming from those lips remind him of the first step into a Jacuzzi or even the first sip of hot chocolate in front of a fireplace? It didn't come off like this man was casually pronouncing Yugi's name. He tasted every syllable, like nibbling the tip of a strawberry.

Yugi hardly tried to disguise his response to the flirt and peered up into those grape colored eyes and said, "Maybe we will."

"There's no maybe about it," Atem said just as deep, just as enticing and just as seductive. "Don't play with the big boys, young buck. A man sampling a buffet always returns for more."

"If he finds it appetizing enough to come back," Yugi countered. He winked and pivoted on his heel, letting the final part of the conversation be left in the air. He gathered his things, feeling the intense stare burning through his back. Yugi hiked on his book bag and waved. "I'll see you tomorrow Kisara! Bye Atem!"

Kisara offered a wide wave, "Bye Yugi, see you tomorrow!"

The father-daughter duo observed the teen walk down the park toward the sidewalk and down the road until he turned and disappeared.

"You like him, I see," Atem said to his daughter.

Kisara nodded, laying her head on his shoulder. "Yugi's my friend, Daddy. And his eyes are my favorite color." She pulled away to look at his profile. "May I play with him again? I like him."

Atem was looking the corner where Yugi turned with an interest that he determined a renewal for the hunt. Yugi Muto huh? '_Hn, cute,'_ Atem inwardly smirked and thought. _'The kid better watch himself though. Tempting a lion with a steak could lead to some very dangerous consequences.' _

* * *

**Trinity Mansion**

Trinity Mansion was by far the most impressively lit sanctuary on Friday evening. Windows pulsated with colorful lights, classical bass drummed from the speakers and visitors in various forms of formal attire decorated the grounds, inside and out. The wealthy, the famous, the gloriously beautiful, and anyone who was anybody made their appearances for Maximillion Pegasus's Annual Fairness Ball. Spotlights sprouting from the largely manicured lawn, swayed up in the night sky, acting as the guiding lighthouses to those who needed directions or to advertise the activities taking place.

Five luxury styled vehicles simultaneously drove down the red bricked path way, through the tall golden gates with the initials M.S.

Each had less than a two foot space limited between them, more close knit then a political escort. They coiled around a circular driveway, where the statue of an onyx carved dragon with glowing red eyes centered. The front of the house was a gaped mouth filtering golden lights through the massive mahogany double doors. The building was three stories tall, boosted somewhere between 20-30 bedrooms, kitchens, foyers and living rooms.

The first car in the line of five was a royal blue 2012 Cadillac CTS with all the trimmings of a brand new car. It had spider chrome rims extended an inch from the tires and deadly bass system drowning out the pitifully bass coming from the house. _Regulators by Warren G and Nate Dog_, exploded into the surrounding area, demanding attention be drawn to the occupant stepping out. The second car was 2010 dark blue Cadillac Escalade EXT sporting tri-pointed silver rims, playing _Return of the Mack by Morrison_ just as loud as the first car.

The third car was a cerulean 2012 Camaro on solid black rims with the back truck extruding chest rumbling music called _War by Magic._ The fourth car behind was a cobalt blue and white pin striped 2010 Charger SXT with the only set of white wall tires. The bass was a sick stereo system streaming _I'm Back by T.I._ The last car was a powder blue 2011 Corvette C7, playing _All Eyes on Me by Tupac Shakur_.

All conversation stopped, all eyes were centered on the several individuals standing around the fountain as if gods had stepped forth. Atem cracked a smile. That's how he wanted it. The scent of Icy Haze wisped out of his car and from the lit blunt between his fingers. The Blue Eyes leader took a long drag and flicked the smoke to the side, regal eyes scanning every face in the vicinity behind his sunglasses. There were countless cars lined around the property and valets escorting all of them to the back yard and along the black iron fence. Of course, they wouldn't dare come near the cars of the Blue Eye Aces.

Atem snorted at the thought. They knew better than to touch his ride.

All of the Blue Eye Aces were dressed better than some of the guests here. Atem "T.O.G." Hassan was in a Calvin Klein jet black suit with a cobalt vest. Seth "D.O.G." Hassan was in an all-around black body slim fit Armani suit with his royal blue tie. Shada "O.G." Hassan wore a three piece white Calvin Klein suit with a navy blue vest and tie. Isis "O.Y.L." Hassan was wearing a sequin gold cocktail dress designed by MNM with a dark blue neck tie and matching blue shoes. The last was the youngest of the group, Marik "Y.G." Hassan wearing a Hugo Boss pressed dark blue pinstriped suit.

Atem's ear picked up the sounds of _Lindsey Sterling's Crystallize Dubstep _violin music pouring from inside, overwhelming the music coming from the Hassan cars. Atem rolled his eyes. Trust Max to do the most at any given party. He flicked his wrist once and all the car engines shut off with a press of the car buttons.

"You see him anywhere?" Seth asked when he came to his cousin's side.

Atem looked around againl. "No, he's fashionably late as always. Yami will arrive towards the end. He hates crowds and hates coming here even more."

"He hates being controlled."

"He hates being made out a pussy," Atem corrected, amused. "I don't blame him either." He jutted his chin to a few onlookers and started for the house. "Let's get this over with. Max's gonna talk through his neck tonight and I don't have time to massage his ego."

The rest of the crew filed in behind the family leader, heads held high, and eyes forward. Atem stalled at the top stone step when robustly loud music started playing from every direction. He had to control his urge to twitch when the Red Eye Spades came rolling down the pathway with cars as finely polished as his crew. He'd recognize Yami's crimson 2013 Cadillac XTS and black chrome rims anywhere. _T.I., Lil Wayne, Drake, Mary J. Blige and Nicki Minaj_ thundered in beat and rhythm as the cars dramatically whirled around the opposite side of the fountain, Yami's car just a touch away from grazing Atem's front grill.

"Swag-jacking asses," mumbled Marik, pushing back some of his blond hair. "Red bloods always trying to outdo us."

Atem agreed but found the whole spectacle amusing. Hell, he found Yami's entire personality amusing. He rarely seen the younger man laugh or so much as crack a smile; as if he had to assure the world he was this cold killer. Granted, he was, but then again, so was Atem.

The entire Red Eye chain of command walked toward the entrance, capturing the surrounding audience's attention just as the Blue Eyes had. Atem kept his eyes solely on Yami as he came forth, dressed in a paste white Valentino tuxedo with a blood red neckerchief. The two men stayed locked in gaze up to when Yami reached the top step.

Atem grinned behind his glasses, plenty of fire licking at his merlot irises.

Yami's face was so frozen, unmoved and his eyes so dark, he could've been mistaken for a demon sculpture.

The rest of the gang members stared their opposites down, a furious ping-pong of glares.

None of the younger ranks mattered to Atem. There was only one man he'd never turn his back on and he was the one before him. The same applied to Yami. He'd turn his back on anyone but Atem.

"Young Blood," Atem greeted.

"Atem," Yami returned just as curtly. "Shall we?"

"Of course," Atem swiped his wrist forward, gesturing for everyone to step through the doorway. Him and Yami took the first step and entered into the exquisite marble and alabaster décor. The main foyer was enormous and filled from elbow to wall with guests of all ages.

A frail young man with long black hair and sharp emerald eyes, dressed in a simple black tuxedo, approached the awaited gang members. His right hand toyed around with a pair of red and blue dice, and his left was shoved in his pocket. "This your whole crew?" he questioned.

The leaders nodded.

"Good, nobody else is allowed in the main room." The young man looked everyone in the eye at least once, not fazed in the least by the aura of power exuding from the gangs. "The same rules apply as they do every year. No killing, no attacks, and no outlandish attempts to assault your enemies. This is Medium territory and it will be respected. Should anyone even think of squeezing through the cracks, you will be neutralized on the spot. Capeesh?" He didn't wait for anyone to answer because he expected the rules to be followed down to the last period. "Follow me."

They left the crowd behind, following the Medium's Pioneer. He led them to a room upstairs and to the far right, following the marble railings. It was the last room near a tall panel window and where view of the entire ballroom was visible. This was Pegasus's study, where he handled anything relatable to the balancing the three powers in Domino City. He, was head representative of the Medium's gang alongside, Zigfried von Schroeder and his young pionner, Duke Devlin. They regulated peace, organization and cooperation, and stopped pontential corruption within the city's government, as much as they could manage between the gangs in order to keep the civilians safe.

Pegasus was sitting behind his desk with Zigfried to his right and Duke stationing himself to the man's left in a red velvet armchair, flopping down and throwing his legs over the side. "Ladies and Gentleman, so glad you all could grace us with your presence," Pegasus greeted with a long swoosh of his hand. "Please do be seated. This meeting won't be long."

Atem stepped forth to shake hands with his longtime friend. "Pegasus, it's been ages since I last saw you.

"And I you, my dear boy. You've grown marvelously," Pegasus said. "Things have been quiet since your trip to Egypt but now, not so much."

"I can't imagine why."

Pegasus nodded to Yami. "Yami Sennen, you're looking well."

"So are you, Max," Yami mumbled.

Pegasus stepped from around his desk, heading to the side bar stand. "Before we jump start this meeting, why not have a few drinks? My bars full so everything's on me. What are you having? The usual?"

"Hennessy."

"Brandy."

Yami and Atem answered at the same time. They shared a look, and turned away. Pegasus hid a smile as he poured the men their drinks and offered them over. The rest of the members declined and took their seats behind their leaders. The room's tension boiled as unsettling as the top over brewing soup. Max felt as well as sensed the animosity threatening to burst forth and knew it was asking for trouble when forcing two rival gangs to sit in the same room. But he would have order and the lives of many depended on him to hand a leash on these fools.

"This meeting is in order," Zigfried announced and stepped into the center beside his partner and friend. "We'll begin with the rumors circulating across town of a potential gang war being planned on both sides of the Medium border. What say you in the name of these accusations?" he directed to the leaders.

Atem casually sipped his drink. "I haven't been back in town awhile and already shit's brewing. How long have these rumors been spreading?"

"A month."

"Then I'm not at fault. Perhaps Yami has more information on it then me," Atem saluted his glass to his rival.

Yami narrowed his eyes, "I've heard no such thing. You're being fed false details from the wrong mouth and possibly an even dumber source."

Duke tossed and caught his dice. "Our sources aren't as dumb as you think. Evidence leads to payoffs to the police departments. Someone's bribing political leaders and there was an increase on both sides in membership. Atem, you've been counted from thirty three to now fifty sets. Yami you've bumped up from thirty six to forty eight sets. The recruited ages rank lower than eighteen. How do you plan to defend that?"

Pegasus twirled his wine glass, a smile masking the darkened gleam in his eyes. "Gentleman, should we have reason to worry? After all, we've made it quite clear that recruitment of children was forbidden." Pegasus looked at the leaders with a different stare. "An agreement was dealt here years ago. No one's recruiter is to step foot on a playground, near schools or orphanages."

"War within the city boundaries is against regulation," Zigfried reminded coldly. "We've divided the city with the center line as Medium Territory. Anyone who enters this section is off limits to you."

Pegasus shifted his gaze to Atem, "_You_ especially have tried too many times to stretch the rules, my boy. Soldiers from your sector were witnessed attacking a civilian within the Red Eye division. You're given grounds to take care of the rebellious members otherwise; I'll have no choice but to force my hand." Then he turned to face Yami. "As for you, you've been responsible for the injuries of several Blue Eyes. Need I remind you of the consequences of your actions?"

Atem's smile vanished as he leveled Yami with a heated look, "Regulating the pests, are you?"

Yami tilted his head, "Something like that," he sipped his drink. "If they're not stomped early, they tend to multiple. You know how difficult it is to get rid of roaches, don't you?"

"Not at all," Atem chuckled darkly. "I get rid of my mine in a more subtle approach. I hardly notice they're there." Atem saluted his drink to Yami and schooled his lips from smirking when the younger leader's face lines sharpened.

"Regardless of the excuses gentlemen," Pegasus interrupted. "You're both threading on thin ice. Friends we all may be, but the care of the city's people come first."

"They shouldn't be meddlin' around on our turf to begin with," Joey suddenly spat from behind. "Blue bloods know the rules, but they keep finding ways to sneak around 'em. I say if you got the balls to waltz in, you got the guts to get shot. Simple."

Marik snickered, "You talk a lot of shit for somebody who got his ass handed to him a year ago."

"And who nearly got _his_ head lopped off in the process?" Joey shot back. "Get the fuck outta here. We can settle this shit here and now, you blond haired Barbie!"

Marik jumped out of his chair. "Bring it then, red blood!"

"It's been brought!" Joey hopped from his seat too. "I got all night to dish this ass whoopin'!"

"Hey, hey, hey, sit down and shut the hell up!" Duke intervened angrily. "What did I say outside the room? No fighting within Medium Territory!"

The two men settled down but not without sending warning hand signs to the other of a promised death. The disturbed meeting crackled with tension. Pegasus knew it'd been long enough for the members to be near one another and called the meeting adjourned. He instructed Yami and Atem to attend another meeting alone sometime next month on activities. The gang members left the building, ignoring the open stares, glares and whispers.

Atem paused at the top step. Yami did the same, gazing up at the dark sky. Atem reached in his pocket for a rolled Purple Haze blunt and lit it. He took one long pull and sighed the mist through his nostrils, "So, you've been extending your lines," he stated more then asked. "Dangerous move, Yami. I'm gone for two months and you think it's ok to show your ass by taking out some of my soldiers," he chuckled shortly. "Very foolish, Young Blood."

Yami closed and opened his eyes. "Then explain to your foot soldiers not to intrude on private land. I have order to maintain and should your fools fail to realize this, the same will happen to any other blue blood entering Red Eye territory. Keep your nasty soldiers off my land, Atem. I played nice before. I don't plan on giving second chances."

"Warning heeded," Atem casually murmured. "Remember, Young Blood. Steel's cold as blue ice."

"And blood bleeds red," Yami said.

Atem's eyes slid close as the drugging effects of his smoke sunk into him. He followed Yami, a step behind as his lips curled into a wicked smirk. He lifted his hand and made a shooting gesture with his finger, "Two can play that game."

* * *

This was stupid, so very, very stupid. Yugi clutched the lunch bag of money he kept rolled between his stomach and waistband as he wandered across the threshold of the Red Eye streets. It'd taken him seconds, minutes, hours and a day to conjure up enough bravery to sneak out of his grandfather's game shop and travel down the blocks. He chose the middle of the afternoon to take care of his mission because the less amount of guardianship over the homes and stores.

So far, so good. Yugi counted his blessings. When he first started, there'd been several gang members patrolling the sidewalks. He'd dodged them in the cracks of buildings and acting as if he were walking in a direction other than where he heard the O.G. operated from. There was a large two story house, one of maybe seven, the O.G. worked in depending on the day of the week. Today was Saturday.

Yugi managed to weasel the information out of Ryou on which house the O.G. was calling the shots from today and it just so happened to be the one house in the heart of the Red Eye Spades. He knew he was getting closer. White picket fences were swallowed by Spade symbols, RES letters, and RIP painted tombstones with names written in the center. The rolling tunes of hip hop and rap music loudly bumped from every direction, playing Yugi's ribs like a piano.

He rounded the corner of a raggedy sling house and came up to circular dead end. He was surprised. The houses positioned around the round driveway were nice as the usual suburban brick home; lawns were nicely trimmed, the bushes manicured in spheres and cubes and there wasn't a broken window in sight. Yugi's lips grimly pursed. Figures the Red Eye leader would live in such luxurious dwellings while the rest of the neighborhood suffered.

"Hey you!"

Yugi froze dead in his tracks. He glanced over his shoulder and saw four guys stalking toward him. He paled. They were runners. He glanced at the house ahead, hoping the center red brick structure was the one he needed to go too and looked over his shoulder. He didn't have time to stop. Yugi forced his feet to beat the pavement when one of the large teens slung their fist around and missed. Yugi's feet ate up the sidewalk in long strides. He peeked over his shoulder and grinned.

They didn't stand a chance against him. Yugi was one of the fastest on his baseball team and he practiced track in middle school. There was no way they'd catch him.

A flash of red appeared out the corner of Yugi's eyes. He gasped and dipped his head down to miss a swinging baseball bat. He hadn't noticed that member and now saw his presence had alerted the rest of the hidden guards from within the lining houses. "Shit!" Yugi cussed his dumb luck. The main house up ahead was being cluttered on either side by men in red t-shirts, hoodies, pants and sweats. Some were holding bats, others had sticks and worst, the sun's reflection of metal had Yugi's feet surging to get there.

Yugi sidestepped an assailant's quick jags and hurried around another's jutted foot. His back leg caught a crack in the sidewalk. Yugi lost his footing and fell right into a fist. His head snapped back hard, a dark dizziness promising an even worst beating if he dropped. Yugi landed on his good hand and kicked his leg out, tripping the one who clocked him. Yugi jumped back to his feet and tore down the road. There were maybe ten, a dozen or more Red Eyes sprinting after him.

"Get back here, fuckin' pussy!"

They screamed and hollered. Yugi bypassed the third house closest to the main house but didn't make it. A hand snagged his gray hoodie and yanked down. He was dragged to the asphalt and immediately devoured by sneaker prints and fists. Yugi curled the best he could to protect himself. His back was ablaze with sharp kicks. His legs were littered with punches, drilling him like cannon fire. Yugi buckled when thousands of hands pulled at his arms and legs.

"Oi, what the fuck is goin' on out here?!"

Everyone froze. That single voice halted the assault like a spray hose to a pack of dogs. Yugi scarcely peeked his eyes through the cracks of his arms to see who his momentary savior was. His whole body weakened with relief.

J.R. stood at the stop of the stairs of the main house, wearing a black wife beater and low riding blue jeans, chewing a tooth pick. His hazel brown eyes scanned over the grunts until landing with widening recognition on the targeted victim. Joey ran a hand through his blond hair and sucked his teeth, "Are you fuckin' serious," he grumbled, descending down the stairs. The gang members parted way for him like the red sea and watched as he squatted down next to their victim.

"We caught 'em tryin' to sneak in, sir," one of the runners informed. "We didn't know if he was a blue blood or not."

Joey snorted, "Hell no, this fool ain't with the Blue Eyes. Hey, get yer ass up, stupid." Joey used one hand to wind Yugi's hoodie in his hand and yanked him to his feet. "The rest of you's can scatta'. The kid's with me."

"You sure, Boss?"

"What'd I just say?" Joey snapped to whoever said that. "I told ya, he's cool. Now beat it!"

The group hesitantly disbursed, leveling Yugi with deadly glares before disappearing back indoors and their other hiding places. Yugi didn't feel himself breathe easier until the last one vanished. "Thanks," he bowed to his savior. "I thought they were gonna kill me."

"Tsk, wasn't nothin' kid. But what the hell are ya doin' way out here in the Grove? You know what could've happened if I hadn't come when I did? You'd be street pizza."

"I know," Yugi bowed again and again, very grateful.

"Hey, hey ease up wit' that," grumbled Joey, popping Yugi on the head when he ducked again. "Now, what the hell do ya want?"

Yugi rubbed his head before reaching in his waistband for the stack of cash. "I wanted to return this. Is the O.G. here?"

"Are you—oh fuck me sideways," Joey face palmed himself. "Is that why you came here? I should've let them wear ya scrawny' ass out if you were comin' for something this stupid."

Yugi lowered the package a little. "It's not stupid. I'm doing what's right. Is he here or not? I wanna talk to him myself."

"No dice kid, I'm as close as you're gettin' to O.G."

Yugi jerked his head to the side, like he was contemplating running around Joey. He swallowed twice, looking at J.R. then at the house. Protesting died in his throat when he thought of reasoning with the older blond. J.R.'s hazel eyes narrowed. Yugi thinned his eyes angrily and stepped back, admitting defeat. The money was crinkled between his fingers as he stared at the package and at the wall of muscle blocking him from his goal. He had the right mind to risk going for the house anyway when he heard the front door slid open and a voice as deep as outer space came through.

"Joey, what's going on out here?"

Yugi looked. . . . And looked. . . . And gazed. In this intense sense of déjà vu, Yugi felt tangled in this web of consuming fascination. There was the O.G. It was really him and Yugi could see why the man was feared. He was tall with a lithe frame and crimson, ebony and blond hairs blended in an untamed disarray, like a crowned masterpiece. His shoulders were strong bearing and board with tattoos of a spade and RES roping up his right arm and traveled up the side of his neck. Yugi's mouth dried. The man's torso had years of built experience in them. Muscles embraced his arms, his firm chest and surfer abs. And those legs, wow. There didn't seem to be an end.

His stance screamed, no, it commanded power. Even dressed in the oversized gray sweatpants and a red wife beater, he looked on like he was ready for battle. Yugi gulped and felt glued to the road, staring like a fool. Yugi felt like he was caught in a predator's hypnotic gaze. The O.G.'s dangerous aura was no longer a fable myth now. Yugi knew it was real.

"Nothin', just that dumb Yugi kid, I told ya 'bout."

The man cocked an eyebrow. "You don't say?"

Molten fire pooled in Yugi's stomach when the O.G.'s eyes fell on him. How could someone's voice be that deep without commanding armies? It was smooth and hauntingly seductive. His eyes never left Yugi's as he came down the stairs and stood over the youth, eyes as smoky as cooked blood studying his face. After a moment, the O.G. shoved his hands in his pockets and said, "What the hell are you doing in the Grove?"

"Tryin' to get killed obviously," grumbled Joey.

Yugi finally found his tongue after mentally kicking himself. He stepped back for some room and bent forward. "Mr. O.G.," he flipped back up, to see the man's eyebrows pinned up in surprise. "I came to say thank you for allowing J.R. to take care of me when I was attacked. You didn't have to take responsibility for your actions but you did. You even made up for the mistakes made by your gang members and it was very kind. I thank you very much." Yugi bowed again and again.

When he came back up, the O.G.'s expression went from surprised to completely bewildered. He shared a look with Joey then turned to face Yugi.

"Also," Yugi continued, thrusting the package forward. "I wanted to give you this. "

"What is it?"

"Your money. I'm sorry, but I can't accept it. Even if there's no catch behind it, it's not right to take the money of others."

The O.G. stared at Yugi like he'd gone mental. With the circumstances being what they were, Yugi could understand why. Naturally when someone was given a sum of money, who really tried to return it? Not only that, but he was face to face with the Red Eyes leader. The same man who could bring down a neighborhood with a snap of his fingers. He thanked the man for giving the money and now returns it like day old trash? God, he hoped he wasn't insulting him.

At last, the voice ,as deep as the Pacific Ocean, spoke, "I don't like being handed things."

Yugi looked up with a small frown. "I'm sorry?"

"He doesn't take crap from folks he don't know." Joey rolled his eyes and snatched the package. "Happy now? Damn," he sneered and stomped back into the house. Yugi wrinkled his nose when the door slammed. He was left alone, helpless and inwardly scared to death of this fine, dangerous, killing machine.

"Was that all you wanted?" the O.G. coolly asked.

Yugi shyly met his eyes and nodded.

"You risked your life and money I owe you, to thank me," O.G. faced him fully now a new kind of expression softening his pupils. "That's interesting," he quietly said. "I never heard of such stupidity."

Yugi thought twice about retorting back and zipped his trap.

O.G. snorted and the smallest, tiniest smile pulled his lips, "Go on home. They won't hurt you."

Yugi sagged with relief, bowed and quickly took off before the O.G. might change his mind.

Yami watched the young boy leave, and shook his head. Indeed, he'd never heard of anyone risking their lives for a simple good deed. This kid, Yugi Muto was it? He was something else. He'd better watch that one.

* * *

**TBC: **Thank you so much for reading**.**

**Blue Eye Aces Chain of Command (Mostly made of family members. Ishizu and Marik aren't related in this fic)**

T.O.G. (Triple Original Gangster) Atem Hassan

D.O.G. (Double Original Gangster) Seth Hassan

O.G. (Original Gangster) Shada Hassan

O.Y.L. (Original Young Lady) Isis Hassan

Y.G. (Young Gangster) Marik Hassan

**Senior Members**

Yusei Fudo

Odion Hassan

**Medium Leaders (A gang based on protection of the city. Inspired by the Almighty Black P. Stone Nation gang in Chicago before they went rouge.) **

Maximillion Pegasus

Zigfried von Schroeder

**Pioneer (Peace keepers) **

Duke Devlin.


	4. Even Grounds

**Author's Rant:** To answer one of my Anon. Reviewer's question: Sadly no, I can't incorporate Castleshipping or Revertshipping into this story since the pairings are already established.

* * *

**Even Grounds**

* * *

Overtime, certain portions of Downtown Domino have evolved into makeshift hangouts for the young folks to go afterhours. Several spots in particular were among the most frequented areas, along the Medium border. Three fast food restaurant parking lots, Taco Bell, Burger King and Popeye's, braced the meat of the activities, with Taco Bell being the most populated.

The "Boom" was a place to mingle and a fake kind of expo for those wanting to flaunt their souped up cars or expensive outfits. Everybody knew somebody, who knew somebody who was trying to be somebody they knew. Cars from old school to updated coupes were on display in the lot; 1997 Caprices on twenty eight inch rims to 2013 corvettes with all the extra features, like neon lights and extra pipes to give that extra purr. Most partiers didn't arrive until midnight and by then the music would be pulsating through the asphalt. The windows of the food chains trembled like stuck harp stings and the spread of marijuana, booze and chatter spread across the Boom.

The upper atmosphere was condensed with the mist of Purp, Kush, Afghani and Ice. Cars poured through Taco Bell one way entrance, parking one by one in the horizontal parking spaces. A custom painted burgundy 2012 Avalanche on black spider rims came roaring with. _Lil Wayne and 2 Chains, Rich as Fuck_ drilling the speakers, though only tidbits of the lyrics could be identified over the stereo's boom, ba, ba booms.

Beneath were neon lime, cerulean and purple lights interchanging in patterns of spades and RES, trailing the ground like a rainbow as it roamed through the crowd, gathering eyes and overwhelming the surrounding competition. The windows were tinted as dark as the road pavement but everyone knew who was inside. They arrived at the Boom the same time, every time on Saturdays.

The car dove into a saved space near a short black iron fence, next to a familiar 2012 dark purple Suburban LTZ with twenty four inch lavender and chrome rims, jet black tinted windows and instead of mercury headlights, illuminated a rich magenta. Lil Wayne's music clashed like a torpedo against the Suburban's rivaling stereo, playing _Nicki Minaj's and French Montana's, Freaks._

The windows on the passenger and driver's sides simultaneously rolled down, engulfing the Boom with only two songs instead of the many others around. The ground didn't stand a chance. Nicki and Lil Wayne went back and forth like an argument between married couples.

Valon and Akefia smirked from inside his Suburban and Joey and Seto's mouths cracked grins from within his Avalanche before the drivers nodded and clicked on _Shake It by Busta Rhymes feat. Trey and Future_. The music shook the core of the earth like the devil was beating the ground with a broomstick. The two cars devoured the competition alive and nearly all the crowd gravitated to the Red Eye vehicles.

Joey looked out the window at the envious expressions coming from the other car owners. This was one of Seto's many revolutionized vehicles, courtesy of being the CEO of Duel Monsters; Kaiba Corporation. No one would've ever taken the rich playboy as a gang member, but he didn't disguise his loyalty to the family. He wore his colors like a Confederate Flag and if asked, would gladly present the RES and Spade tattoos on his right arm. Despite relations to the Red Eyes, it did nothing to dampen his business. The stock buyers and Board of Directors could give three damns what he did with his personal life, so long as he kept the green rolling in. He had lawyers and any means of coverage to hide his tracks in the few cases things escalated out of control.

And Moneybags always kept the best saved for the family. Whatever was his was theirs. Just another prideful perk Joey relished in when hanging around his partner.

Their relationship was one even the O.G. couldn't understand

Seto "Slim" and Joey "J.R." personalities were on the direct ends of the spectrum. They were like oil and water, hot and cold, sour and sweet. They'd joined the gang life around the same time, Joey being recruited first and Seto coming in a year later. RES had been the grounded family the young men hadn't had when growing up. Seto was in an orphanage raising a young brother on his own. As for Joey, well, that abusive father of his wouldn't be bothering him or his baby sister ever again. Yami made sure the two were well taken care of and raised with all the knowhow of the streets and gave them the protection to do whatever they pleased.

However it wasn't always cookies and cream.

Seto and Joey argued and fought like hellions, sometimes to the point of breaking bones and leaving bruises the size of baseballs, but it never went beyond. They got on each other's nerves like you wouldn't believe, but the level of respect between them was uncanny. That was just how they unleashed their emotions and when it was over, they'd shake hands and move on. They gave each other nicknames, no one else could call the other except themselves, and when push came to shove, they always had each other's back.

"What are you staring at?" Seto's raspy tone chided.

Joey whirled around, grinning from ear to ear, "I'm scopin' out the place."

"What for? You do this every time we come out here."

"'Cause I like to see 'em squirm. Just look at their faces."

Seto snorted, "Whatever, just don't drool on my windows." The brunet leaned over to pop open his glove compartment to retrieve a zip lock of handmade brown and white cigarillo wraps and a small sized ceramic rice bowl covered in aluminum foil. Joey's nose twitched. He knew that addictive smell anywhere and spun around to see Seto setting up the fix.

"Is that the Ice?"

"Yep."

"Hell yeah, gimme, gimme," Joey automatically held his hand out and Seto placed a neatly rolled blunt, full of the street's newest marijuana brand, Ice. The potency was to die for. The smell and taste could remedy stress with the first drag and the quality rivaledAfghani. Joey's been a fan since he saw Akefia tweak it with some runners a couple of weeks ago. Thief ended up so high he dropped off the city harbor butt naked and started singing _I Get High_ before he hit the water.

Joey pulled out a red lighter and lit up, immediately filling the truck with the sour flavors of. . . of. . .—Joey's eyes widened and stared at the poison between his fingers before a nasty cough came thundering through his lips. His lungs were on fire. The aftertaste of what he _thought _was Ice started sucking the oxygen right out of his chest. Joey hacked and coughed and choked out the window, inhaling the slightly polluted air. This shit was horrid. There's no way this was Ice. It was too strong.

"Mother—fuck, what the hell," Joey exhaled dramatically, beating his chest. By the time he finished he glared at the wrapped up venom, then cast a glare strong enough to kill a pound of puppies, at his partner. "You," he let loose another series of short coughs because talking seemed to flag his lung for more coughs. "F-fuck you!" He shouted out the window when Akefia and Valon howled in laughter about a foot away. Joey flung the lit blunt in the car next to him and ignored Akefia's shout when he got burned.

Seto reclined in his chair; eyes sleepily hooded and exhaled the haze through the window. When he looked around at his passenger, he couldn't resist the guilty smirk, "Problem?"

"What the flippin' hell?!" Joey retorted angrily. "What is that?"

"Red Dawn," Seto casually answered. He licked his lips, and took another pull before gazing coolly at the blonde's red face. "What? We needed a guinea pig."

Joey gawked, "And you couldn't use the fuckin' Wombat—I said shut the hell up!" He growled at the occupants still laughing in the other car. "That shit nearly took me out. Fuck, my head. I think I saw Jesus." Joey groaned and sunk low in his seat.

Seto chuckled, "Pussy." He pulled a deep drag and withdrew it to blow out a thick stream of smoke. "Quit being a baby. You barely took a hit," He flicked some ash from his blunt and held it between his fingers, smoke floating from its end. "Man up."

"Fuck you, Moneybags. I like breathing, thank you," Joey huffed. The blond wasn't a rookie in smoking, but he'd be damned if started floating in space. Some of the merchandise these days could take out a pack of pit bulls. "You're a dick, ya know that?" Joey gripped, pissed and irritated at Seto's twisted cackling.

"Poor baby," Seto held out his for Joey to sample. This time when Joey inhaled it was correct dosage. Oh baby, he was in heaven. The instantaneous effects oozed through his veins like hot oil. Joey dusted some ashes out the window and passed the blunt back Seto's turn.

_Con los terroristas  
Ey Shake  
Ey Shake  
Ey, Ey, Ey, Ey  
Shake, Ta. Ta  
And do the Harlem Shake  
Ey Shake, Ey_

"Oh hell yeah! Slim, turn that shit up!" Akefia called, squeezing through his window. He ran to the front of his Suburban, bunched his shoulders and started doing his own version of the Harlem Shake and a sudden attempt at the Bernie. Seto flipped his radio knob, pushing most of the bass lyrics through his speakers. Valon whooped, scrambled on top of the car and waved his arms in the air before back flipping off the hood to join some of the ladies grinding on Akefia.

Joey bobbed his head, pumping his arm out the window, dangling the last remnants of his smoke on his lip. He took it out long enough to sing along, _"And do the Harlem Shake! Ey Shake, Ey!"_ His honey brown eyes were gleaming like a child's first Christmas as the melody grew louder and picked up a swarm of dancers from everywhere. Seto lazily nodded his head to the lyrics, shoulders doing an occasional bump to the beat.

"Yo, ya brought the drinks?" Joey said over the music, mouth dry from the diesel. He didn't get a reply and turned around, scowl in place, to find his partner leering across the lot at the neighboring Burger King.

'_Oh, so that's what's got him distracted_,' Joey mentally mused. "Looking to play tonight, Moneybags?"

"You have no idea, Mutt," Seto's blue eyes were practically glowing with lust. Joey knew the target as soon as he spotted the white haired high school student. Ryou King, Akefia King's younger brother and Seto's boyfriend of two years. His eyes almost resembled navy gemstones as they traveled over the slender figure dressed in stone wash jeans, a blue V-neck tee and black gloves.

Joey would've left his friend to ogle his fun time and got the drinks himself but his hazel eyes made crossed paths with a black, platinum and sky blue pin striped Suzuki GSZR Motorcycle. Silver custom designed exhaust pipes lined the rear tire in a three pair set. A crash bar accented the sides and up in the front was a tinted windshield. Damn, that son of bitch was a beaut.

Joey had never been a sucker for motorcycles—cars were more his forte—but hanging around Valon gave him a keen eye for quality motorcycles. He didn't have to wonder who the owner was for long. The blonde's brown eyes narrowed thin and concentrated on the person coming out the Burger King and took his place on the side of the bike.

Joey's grin could terrify a demon, '_Now that's what I'm talkin' about.' _

A perverse hum left Joey's throat just as the music quieted, tearing Seto's gaze from eye-molesting his boyfriend. The brunet almost thought his companion was eyeballing his boyfriend, but knew better. Joey wasn't the type, which meant, someone else had caught the blonde's attention.

There was a tall brunet with a gelled up hair style like the ball point of a pen, leaning against the front of a motorcycle. Seto chuckled under his breath. It'd been a long time since Joey had this kind of reaction to anyone.

The kid was fine, sporting an orange and grey block striped Hurley V-neck, custom fit to mold on his finely sculpted chest muscles. Joey eyes was ripping his clothes off, bit by bit to reveal a trim waist, strapping toned legs for days and bulky arms crossed over his chest.

He couldn't be what, seventeen or eighteen at the most? Barely legal to Joey's twenty years but Joey could look though right? Hell yeah he would, because the kid shouldn't wear jeans that highlighted his crotch and a shirt that put that delicious body on display.

Joey wanted him. He wanted him bad. From the dark blue jeans, down to his grey matching Nike Air Max shoes, Joey wanted every inch of him. A minute into debating his come-ons, Joey's lips peeled over his teeth in a rich smile when he'd heard the young man's masculine laugh. What a sound. It sent electric wires tingling up Joey's spine.

Deep, smooth and rich like chocolate syrup.

_Mmm, mmm, mm. Damn he was fine. Had Joey's leg twitching like a dog. _

"On the hunt, Pup?" Seto gibed lightly, cutting through Joey's thoughts.

Joey's schooled features couldn't fool Seto's inquisitive gaze, "About to be." He grasped the door handle and hopped out. He took another pull of his and Seto's shared smoke and handed it back inside.

Seto chuckled, leaning back in his seat, "Send Ryou over here when you get there."

"Will do."

"Play nice, Pup."

"Don't I always?" Joey said through the window. Straightening out his black and crimson checkered polo and black cargo shorts, Joey dug in his pocket for a stick of double mint gum and popped a strip in his mouth.

Joey presented his best smile as he hopped the black fence and strolled over.

* * *

The more centralized the local property was into Medium Territory, the more protected it was. There was little concern about gunfire or drive-byes. It was too laid back and the kind of people here didn't care much for being known.

Consider it a suburban version of the Taco Bell next door. No one tried to exhibit how much they could spend on cars, jewelry, clothes and etc. It was all about having fun. Here, the teenagers and young adults simply came to talk or loiter outside the Burger King joint, sitting on the side of the building, sitting in circles around a parking space or sat in their cars, waiting for the cashier to bring their meals. This particular restaurant decided to evolve its services similar to Sonic by having the associates bring the meals outside to customers, but this pleasure was only reserved for Saturdays after seven. The manager was cool like that.

Tristan demanded Yugi cash in one of his rain checks for coming to hang out with him, Ryou, and Duke at the infamous midnight madness; a time when the manager cut the prices so low, they might as well be given to poverty. Yugi had gone inside with Duke to order the goods, while Tristan and Ryou talked by his bike.

And don't get him started on this baby. Tristan had been saving for years to purchase this bad boy and the payments were little to nothing. The fixings and extra accessories came from knowing friends in special places, and getting the hook up from people he knew uptown. He'd recently added the Thrasher Black Rims to his tires that cost about as much as a house note, but again, thanks to his connections, he got them for a quarter of that.

"Where the hell are they with our food?" Tristan growled, checking his watch. "It doesn't take that long to pay five bucks." It'd been about twenty minutes since Yugi and Duke went inside. Tristan almost assumed they were purposely taking their time until Duke came through the glass door with his arm full of extra-large drinks and Yugi not far behind with four brown paper bags.

"About time ya came out. Did you get lost between here and the register?"

Duke instantly became offensive, "Hey, if you're gonna complain, next time get your own crap. I don't have to take this abuse!"

"The ice machine was busted, Tristan," Yugi explained, annoyed. "Mr. Tenchi took forever trying to fix the damn thing. You'd know that if you'd paid for your own food."

"So, you didn't get my smoothie?" Tristan dolefully concluded.

Yugi rolled his eyes playfully, "You think we'd stand there all this time and not get our stuff?"

Duke did the honors of holding up the large white cup, overrun with the slushed strawberry banana mix. "We got 'cha right here, bud."

"And my milkshake?" Ryou asked.

Duke held up the chocolate and vanilla mixed combo milkshake, "Here ya go." He grabbed his own Mango Smoothie and large sprite and sat on the edge of the sidewalk.

Yugi crouched down next to him and looked through the four bags, inventorying each order aloud. "Kay, Tristan had two Triple Whoopers with extra cheese, no pickles and two large fries," Yugi passed that bag to its owner. "Duke had three Quad Stackers, with extra ketchup, a large fry and a ten piece." He handed that to Duke's grabbling fingers. "Ryou, you ordered the twenty piece Chicken Nuggets with BBQ sauce, a Whooper Jr. with extra tomato, no onions and a large fry." Yugi's eyebrow rose as he peeked inside the bag. "And a Turkey Burger with Onion Rings?"

Tristan paused where he had about ten fries posed to enter his mouth, "The hell?"

"Geez man, you goin' to the electric chair?" Duke exclaimed.

Ryou shrugged, relieving Yugi of his order and propped himself next to Tristan, "What can I say? A bloke's gotta eat."

"Keep it up and coach is gonna have you running laps for years," Tristan commented before shoving the fries in his mouth and taking a mammoth sized bite out of his whooper.

The last bag in Yugi's hand was his own order of a Triple Stacker with pickles and ketchup, a Double Whooper with extra onions and pickles, two large fries and his large strawberry Fanta. The gang talked and chatted a while, most of the discussion revolving around the finals coming up in a couple of months. Yugi sucked up most of his strawberry soda and stood up replenish it. "Anybody else need a refill?"

Duke held up his sprite. Tristan shook it off. Ryou, however, took the longest to answer. The turkey burger was forgotten, growing cold because Ryou's chocolate brown eyes were fastened across the way in the Boom area. Yugi frowned and glanced over as well. A monstrously fancy Avalanche was parked at an angle and the occupant within, was casting a cobalt stare smoldering in lust. That was Seto Kaiba. Yugi knew of him well enough and how much Ryou cared for the cold man like no other person did.

Another figure moved into Yugi's peripheral but he didn't think to check it out until the presence became overwhelming and had this sense of a looming force. Yugi jumped out of his skin when a large hand clapped his shoulder followed by an accented voice, "Well, if it ain't my favorite trouble maka'."

Yugi looked over his shoulder and up into J.R.'s toothy grin, "J.R., hey," He answered uneasily, neither sure if this was a casual meeting nor if he should be on guard. "What's up?"

"Not a lotta, just wanted to come over and chat with 'cha."

That, Yugi highly doubted, "Well there isn't much going on here. I'm just hanging out with friends."

"So am I," J.R. hooked his arm around Yugi's neck and tugged him into an awkward headlock/hug. "While I'm here, why don't ya introduce me ta' yer friends."

Yugi artlessly tried to loosen the gangster's grip, "Sure." His eyes glanced over to see how he'd go about getting his friends to notice, but Tristan's face was scrunched in a deep scowl. That was never, ever a good sign. Tristan always hit first, punched again and asked questions later when it concerned Yugi. The young baseball player shimmied himself loose and escorted J.R. over "Uh, everybody this is J.R. J.R. this is Duke, Ryou, and Tristan."

Duke narrowed his green eyes suspiciously, "We're already acquainted," he grunted before taking a large bite out of his burger. "Joey."

"Duke," Joey greeted with less warmth. "Heh, anyways," he dismissed Duke's entire company to speak to Ryou. "Yer man's waitin', Marshmallow."

"I know," Ryou softly said, eyes still trained a few yards away. He let off a small sigh and looked apologetically to his friends. "Guys, I'll catch a ride with Seto. I'll see you later."

The group stared after Ryou to make sure he made it safely to the massive vehicle. He stood at the driver's side, knocked on the window and waited. The tinted window slid down to reveal Seto Kaiba's handsome angular face. They said a few words back and forth that must've been amusing because Seto's lips pulled up in a wicked smile worthy of a great white. Ryou's face flushed when the driver's side door opened and Seto's lanky arm darted out and yanked him in.

Tristan flinched back when a low gruff voice suddenly spoke near his ear, "So yer name's Tristan eh?" He looked around and saw that blond guy who'd had himself over Yugi, looking at him like a dog does a steak.

Tristan looked this guy up and down like he'd lost his mind, "Yeah, what of it?" He roughly inquired.

J.R. blinked, than collected himself. This one had a smart mouth. He liked that, "Nothin'. Just makin' conversation." Joey positioned himself on the seat of Tristan's bike, relaxing his arm on the cushion so that his nose could brush the side of Tristan's arm, "Mmm, ya smell nice."

Yugi was perplexed for all of three seconds watching the sudden switch in J.R.'s demeanor until it came crashing down. He smiled and shook his head. _So that's it huh? He's interested in Tristan_. He'd have better lucky teaching a ferret the National Anthem. But it'd be fun to watch. Yugi made himself scarce and eased inside the Burger King to watch from the window.

Tristan's lips pursed tight as disgust boiled over his skin in herds of goosebumps, "Sorry buddy," he wedged himself away from the blonde's encircled arm and dusted his sleeve, "I don't swing that way."

J.R. didn't look the least bit deterred, "That's what they all say in the beginnin', but maybe I can change ya mind." His honey hazel eyes swept over the brunet's lips, wanting to test the texture with his tongue. "How's 'bout it kid. You and me, tonight, at my place."

"You got wax caked in your ears?" Tristan bellowed, irritated. "I'm not interested. Go stalk somebody on Rainbow Street."

J.R. eyed the teen's face, feasting on his anger and the way his muscles bunched in his neck. Was his neck as sensitive or tender to the touch? Mm, the possibilities were endless. "Don't be that way, sweetheart. I'm a nice guy. And I don't roll down Rainbow Street. Nothin' there but soft candy. I prefer my lovers strong, tall and sexy." J.R. slithered up close, the breeze of his breath fanning Tristan's earlobe. "If I wanted a woman, I'd go fuck one. But I'd rather get a piece of this," Bold and shameless, J.R.'s hand slid over the cushion, reached around Tristan's waist, and raised his hand to cup the teen's firm, thick ass.

J.R.'s first warning should've been when the brunet stiffened in his grasp, but it wasn't until a few groping seconds, a sharp punch struck his jaw. The blond landed on his ass, momentarily dazed, and half his face going numb. Joey was stunned as the tips of his fingers grazed over the curve of his jawbone, feeling a swell begin to rise.

Son of a bitch.

J.R. leapt to his feet and charged forward. It all happened too fast. J.R. was upon Tristan, slamming him like a quarter back, collapsing them both to the ground. J.R. had the barrel of his pistol nudged beneath Tristan's chin and his other hand full of the teen's brown hair, "You crazy ass bitch. You actually hit me," he said, voice as hollow as a phantom. His deathly grip clicked the safety off, as he tucked his bottom lip between his teeth and snarled. "Ya know who the fuck I am, kid? I'll splatta' yer shit all over this parkin' lot!"

"I don't give a fuck who you are!" Tristan pressed his hair against the vise grip to slack the pain, eyes watering from the shoved barrel imprinting his Adam's apple. "If you shoot, ya better kill me asshole, 'cause I swear on my life, I'll return the favor!"

"Trust, ya pointy haired fuck, I don't plan on missin'," Joey's body shuddered. He was straddled over the tall brunet's body, his thighs clamped like iron chains around his arms. Nobody disrespected J.R. No fucking body and this brat had the nerve, the fucking gall to punch him and think he'd live? Hell no.

J.R.'S index curbed the trigger piece and tugged.

The icy weight of round steel flattened against his temple, "Back up, Joey," Duke darkly warned, thumbing the safety off his silver Sig. Pro automatic.

Joey didn't flinch, "That supposed ta' scare me, Duke?"

"I don't give a damn if you piss your pants, but you better put your gun away. Otherwise we're gonna have two blood stains on the ground instead of one."

"Then we're just gonna be a couple of laid out fucks, aren't we?" Joey said, simply.

"I'm warnin' you—"

"Fuck you!"

"Get off him!"

Joey visibly jolted when he heard that terrified shriek. His ears listened in on Yugi bolting out of the restaurant, tennis shoes beating the pavement. He didn't get far, though. The shuffle and sudden slam of cloth to asphalt said so. Duke snagged the back of his shirt and slammed the teen to the ground, knee pressed to his chest, "Stay back, Yugi!"

"Let go, Duke! He's gonna shot him! Why aren't you doing something? Get off me— J.R. I swear to God, you hurt him, I'll fucking kill you, you hear—Move Duke, I can take him!"

Joey's heart stammered over a beat before going into double-time. He clenched and unclenched his jaw, trying to control his bodily instinct to just start shooting. Too much was going on at once. The area was steadily drawing a crowd and constricting the air around him. Joey slowed his breathing and tried to gather his wits. He glared at Tristan's face like some kind of contagious illness. Getting some ass wasn't worth all of this.

Maybe it was the brave, stupid fear in Yugi's eyes that made J.R.'s gun slack or the obviously fake courage in his victim's eyes that made him switch the gun's safety back on.

Or he was probably just getting soft.

J.R. chuckle was airless as he roughly shoved Tristan's head to side and stood, stuffing his gun in the waistband of his trousers. Duke retracted his weapon and did the same, eyes thin as a blade. He didn't know what to make of this. J.R. never stopped an assault like that. If he didn't shoot, he'd definitely beat the hell out of whoever pissed him off. Duke swung his gaze around to survey the gleam of metal aimed from various directions across the way.

J.R. signaled with several finger signs and all the hidden guns vanished, a few reflecting off the shine of the street lights. He had to signal twice to have Seto pull his Double Barrel Pistol back in the car. The brunet's window rolled halfway up, but he kept his sharp eyes focused on Joey.

The blond signed and his brown gaze connected with Tristan's a second before looking over at Yugi's bewildered expression.

J.R. sighed, shoved his hands in his pockets and trekked off toward the other side.

He hadn't seen eyes look that frightened since his baby sister left.

* * *

Duke let Yugi off the ground with a harsh warning of not going after J.R. Yugi didn't spare the man a thought. His only focus was getting to his best friend's side. Yugi's hands danced all over Tristan's face, chest and neck worriedly.

"Did you see his face?" Tristan murmured, weary eyes following the deflated slump of the blonde's shoulders.

"No," Yugi answered. He fingered under Tristan's chin and felt the pistol's bumpy indention. The skin there had marginally changed a dull red, but otherwise there was no harm. "God Tristan," Yugi whispered, relieved. "I thought he was gonna kill you."

Tristan looked until the blond disappeared inside the Avalanche before whispering, "I didn't think so."

* * *

It was hot. Even with the ceiling fan and box fans turned to max, Yugi couldn't cure his restlessness.

He'd done away with his t-shirt and laid there, lounging in his plaid black and grey pajama pants, thinking. Yugi couldn't sleep since he arrived home at two. The drama kept replaying like a bad western show. It was just so, so mind boggling. He tossed and turned, failing to find that one spot that'd lure him to sleep. His pillow was punched to a flat lump and all the coolness in his sheets evaporated from the humidity.

The air conditioning was probably on the fritz again.

Yugi glanced at the digital clock reading the blushing 5:39. He wasn't going to get much sleep, he knew. He never could with a full mind and a heavy heart.

It was too stuffy in here. He needed to get out. Yugi swung his legs around and got up to search around his drawers for something to wear. He pulled out a thin orange hoodie out of the dresser, bringing it to his nose and catching the scent of pumpkin spice. He'd stolen this particular item from Heba's closet a few days after his funeral. Yugi washed it a handful of times, but never for long, scared he may forever dissolve his brother's scent. The odor was faint as a whisper. Yugi pulled it on and slipped on a pair of white Nike Air Forces.

He crept through the game house, peeked in on his grandfather and waited for his snore before leaving the store. Yugi locked up and checked the windows before making his way down the empty pathway and through the gang infested buildings.

The air was stale and humid and smelt of rain. Yugi didn't have a specific direction in mind. He let his feet act on their own, taking time down the trash slick sidewalk, through the graffiti painted buildings and through the mobs of Red Eye Spade members lingering in the alleyways.

Yugi stopped at the entrance leading to this portion of town when he heard a rumble in the sky.

He looked up.

The shrouded gray darkness obscured every shred of the early morning sky, heavy clouds haunting the horizon and enveloping the urban terrain in peaceful silence. The normal sounds of the nighttime were minimized, Yugi noticed. Almost as if he was the only living soul out here. A chilly breeze rustled the pebbles and blew his bedridden hair over his scalp without making a sound. Yugi ran his fingers through the matted hair, trying to add some shape to it and gave up. It was a tangled wreck. Yugi's hair-spikes fell in a heap of red, black and blond around his shoulders, heavy as a draped flag.

Onward he walked until it was guaranteed the rain would fall. By then, Yugi was gazing at the Domino City Garden Park, entranced by the empty landscape. Had he really walked that far from home, Yugi pondered, looking at the stone box collections of flowers. They seemed to reflect his mood: mellow, solemn and restless from the way they swayed and stilled against the storm's winds.

Yugi went for the playground and sat in one of the swing seats. The rain came at last, fanning the vacant playground and showered. The rain blurred his vision, until the world swam in an endless sheet of white. It took less than five minutes before the heavy rain soaked through Yugi's hoodie, plastering the wooly fabric to his chest. He uselessly pulled his hood down to keep the rain from his eyes. A lot of good it did. Dribbles of the wetness dangled off his banes and rolled on his nose.

His eyes worked through the wavering rain, focusing on the objects as if the answers to his troubles were buried somewhere in the mists.

There were none, only a vast plain of darkened shadows. Yugi didn't know what to make of things anymore. It was just . . . just . . . it seemed like everything was getting out of hand. He'd risked his life twice over things that were miniscule after thinking them over. Was his pride really worth his life? Or was it principle? He'd been ready to fight J.R. after he pulled a gun on Tristan, but even if he'd managed to save Tristan, what would've happened to him?

Yugi felt so confused, so, so confused.

The rain stopped suddenly, leaving his face dripping with excess. Yugi peered up into a round navy blue shade and followed the arm attached. His purple gaze meant the warmth of autumn colored eyes.

"Is this what the young bucks do these days when needing a breather?" Atem's amused voice cut through the downpour like a sword.

Yugi squinted, brain working to remember a name, "Mr. Hassan?"

"Atem actually," Atem took a squat in the swing next to Yugi's, legs more bent to the height difference, yet he had the poise to pull it off. Atem was wearing a large brown trench coat, buttoned to his neck and dark black dress pants poking at the end. He fixed the umbrella over their heads and looked at Yugi's downcast face. "Hm, I'd say the flowers out here were enjoying this god forsaken weather. They're like you it seems, using the rain as an escape from reality."

Yugi snorted at that, "I'm hardly a flower."

"No you're not, but you're just as wilted," Atem leaned forward so his face was in clear view of Yugi's. "Something on your mind, young buck?"

Yugi didn't reply right away.

"If it's too difficult to talk about—"

"That'd be the easy part," Yugi deadpanned.

Atem barely heard him over the shower and asked he repeat himself.

Yugi inhaled and exhaled and said, "Talking about my problems is the easy part. Its dealing with them that has me messed up."

"Oh," Atem's lips pursed together. He drew his face upward, watching the upper atmosphere's turmoil with the weather. "That comes with the territory. Life's meant to be jumbled and confusing. There's never a straight answer for what you want to know."

"I wish it wasn't so complicated."

"Then there wouldn't be the fun of discovering shortcuts," Atem glanced at Yugi's face out the corner of his eye and saw the teen was still occupied in his own universe. "I take it you didn't have a pleasant weekend."

Yugi snorted, "Definitely not. My whole day was one big fuck up." After dropping the F bomb, Yugi mustered the rest of the courage to explain bits and pieces of what happened to him and Tristan without giving too much away. Sitting in the rain, talking to this stranger was already unsettling. Revealing too much of his business would be pushing it. "I'm just wondering when it'll all slow down." Yugi added after explaining his story. "Everything's happened so fast. It's like a domino effect; one event triggering the next and I'm the factor that tilted the first."

"I suppose that's a good way of putting it," Atem nodded. "But the dominos can't stand forever. Something will have to give them that push to begin the trail of destiny. When you light the fire, don't expect it to go out so quickly. It'll burn out on its own." The older man produced a cigarette out of his chest pocket, got his lighter and ignited the end, the wisps of white smoke adding to the rainy surface.

Yugi was, somewhat, stunned at how things were explained. The way this guy spoke, you'd think he'd seen it all and dealt his cards in a pattern that best suited the situation. Had he ever experienced troubles as jumbled as Yugi's? If so, how did he deal with it all? The pressure of any problem could wear a man down to his knees. Yugi wondered how long it would take before the weight of everything started tugging him down to the ground.

"You're your own problem Yugi."

"Hn," Yugi tooted his lips to the side. "You don't know me like that. How would you?"

"I can hear the anxiety in your voice when you speak; the dread and tireness. You should really stop placing all the world's problems on your shoulders. Leave some of the stress for others to deal with."

"I want you but . . . sometimes I think if I don't do it, someone's likely to suffer."

"You're not a hero, Yugi. Not everything can be resolved all at once. You need to accept that. Life won't be easier for you, trust me. It'll get harder."

Yugi chewed his bottom lip, thinking and soon leaned his head forward to catch Atem's attention, "Have you ever, um," he thought a moment. "Ever had to do things you thought were right only to learn they may have been stupid?"

Atem took a drag of his cigarette, "Plenty of times, young buck. But I learn from my mistakes and move on. That's what I love about life. It's all a game, and we are the punned pieces to the board." He released the pent up smoke through his nostrils, gathering the appearance of a mythical warlock.

Yugi's eyes followed a bit of smoke before the rain ate through its defenses, "Life shouldn't be taken so lightly. I should know. You'll wind up dead or taken from someone who needs you."

"That's the game, young buck. You play it until the very end. Those troubled moments are just devices to hold you back from reaching the end. There will be more drama to come, some possibly more traitorous than this but you never stop. You said you risked your life and your friend nearly lost his?" Atem shrugged nonchalantly. "Move on from that now. You're still alive and able to take the next step to reaching the end."

"You sound like you've been through that; near death I mean."

"Do I?" Atem flicked the excess ashes off the burning tip and reinserted it. "Maybe. After the first few times, you learn to let it go."

Yugi frowned, "First few times?"

Atem chuckled, the short tenor exuding low, quiet danger. Atem looked him over a moment, the glare so utterly dark in his eyes it stole Yugi's breath away. There was a reflection of an aged predator, like a pack leader of a wolf clan, who'd lead his crew to many kills.

"I've been on the end of a gun enough times to outmatch your age, young buck." Atem stood and flicked some ash from the tip of his cigarette. "What does that tell you about poor decision making?"

Yugi shifted in his seat, "But you lived each time."

Atem stared forward, "I never said which end of the gun I was on," With those words, the older man thumped the last of his cigarette away and started off down the sidewalk.

Without his umbrella.

Yugi blinked up and saw he'd somehow hooked the curved end through the chain link so it hung over Yugi. Yugi carefully undid the fixings and hurried after him to return it.

Atem stopped him with the palm of his hand, "Keep it. You've been rained on enough."

"It's not mine," Yugi held it over both their heads. "Please, you'll catch a chill."

"If I let a little cold wear me down, I need my ass kicked."

Yugi shivered. Damn, his voice could command kingdoms. The depth of Atem's voice warmed Yugi to the pit of his shoes.

Atem stared off into the distance, eyes entranced with the aches of sodden flowers, pooling puddles and the night refusing to surrender. "I should get going and so should you."

"Why were you out here?" Yugi asked.

Atem said nothing for a while before closing his eyes and turning away, "Taking a stroll."

"In the middle of the night? Why?"

Atem chuckled, lightly ruffling Yugi's wet hair, "That's my business, young buck. Go home to get your head together. I'll see you again."

"You want too?"

"I do."

"Oh, then, I guess we'll see each other sometime," Yugi bowed at the waist. "Thank you for your advice." He sprinted around Atem, waving over his shoulder. He disappeared through the shrouded mists, a shadow amongst the rest.

The umbrella was left on the ground. Atem smirked, "A heart of gold, that one." He bent down to pluck his umbrella up and closed it. The rain continued to come in throes. His fingers lightly glazed over the Desert Eagle .50 Tiger handgun hidden in his waistband, "Another time perhaps," he murmured to the winds.

Atem pushed in a loaded magazine and growled under his breath, "Damn." The battleground wouldn't be evened out as much as he intended tonight.

Too much time was spent here.

And it was all because Yugi entered the game without knowing he'd kept a few lives from being lost. But he wouldn't save them all.

* * *

After talking so long with Atem, Yugi found himself even more restless but with a clearer mind. Sleep continued to condemn to him to a night of delirium. And Yugi just didn't have the mental endurance to stay in bed and toy around with it all.

He'd taken the scenic route down the way to a local café called Galilee. It wasn't far from home, a mile at the most, so when he left, it was a straight shot after turning the first right corner. The café stayed open twenty four hours during the weekend; the hours between five and seven a.m. being the time the business was congested with incoming truck drivers and business owners, desiring a fresh cup of coffee or hot breakfast.

When he pushed open the door, the bell chimed brightly, and it made him smile. Already he felt the air conditioned clinging his soggy clothing to his body like spider webs and the swaying charms of the atmosphere relaxing his mind. Music filtered from the ceiling speakers playing _Kenny G's, The Moment. _Something sweet and jazzy and soothing to quiet his mind's inner bedlam. Yugi closed his eyes and sighed, automatically guiding floated to the third booth on the right, next to a panel window. It led to a cozy opening view of the horizon opening upon the city in apricot, lavender and crimson shades.

The rain died away to a mild drizzle. There weren't a lot of people in this Sunday morning.

That was fine. Yugi could use a little privacy.

He could empty his mind here . . . he could, he could remember old times here.

He and Heba used to sneak out of the house at night when Heba was in his better moods and order small cappuccinos, and frappes. Heba would order a small sweet tea for Yugi to drink while he got a cold frappe with extra caramel. What fun that was. Yugi's expression had been aglow back then when Heba told him stories of about all the devilment he got into with his friends as a child or how often Grandpa had the energy back then to chase him with a belt.

Funny.

Just sitting, with his mind melting into the past, this place stillcarried that old traditional sensuality_. That was _something Yugi needed now, a hint of familiarity and calming uniqueness to remedy his mind. The tranquil melody coming from Kenny G gradually hummed him back to old times. To that one time, he had to ask. He wanted to know something . . .

~0~0~0~

"_Do you love me?" A six year old Yugi questioned his older brother just before bedtime._

_The tall, thickly built teenager finished pulling the outer comforter to Yugi's neck and dropped into a crouch beside his bed. Heba gave a crooked smile that didn't quite reach his maroon eyes, letting the tips of his large dexterous fingers graze over the curvature of Yugi's cheek. __". . . . no."_

_Forlorn shadows appeared to overshadow the small shine left in Heba's eyes. Yugi shifted beneath his covers, tiny hands trembling. Those times, came more often now. Like an uncorked flow of sadness enveloping Heba's spirit. _

_Yugi sniffled, untucking his hand to grasp over the large index finger tracing his cheek, "That's ok, Heba. I love you. Even when you hate me. Is that alright?"_

_The shadows faded. They strayed off long enough for Heba's smile to come, "No," he murmured, voice a buried tone of regret. "You're so pure Yugi. That's why I don't deserve to be your big brother."_

_~0~0~0~_

"Here," said a rough voice.

A napkin drooped in front of Yugi's face and with it were five long, bejeweled fingers.

Yugi jolted and crashed landed back to reality. He couldn't fight the onslaught of tears bubbling out the corners of his eyes. They rolled, one by one, a drop adding the raindrops still clinging to his face. God, when had that started?

He looked up and jumped again. This was the last face he'd been expecting in a place like this.

Yugi swallowed his gasp, but his eyes grew as round as dinner plates. His bottom lip pulled between his teeth. The O.G. overshadowed Yugi's right flank, wearing a short sleeve grey casual slim fit button up shirt and trim fitted Levi jeans, flare around some low top force ones. An imminent aura enveloped Yugi's eyes the longer he stared into the tinted mulberry eyes. The intensity of his gaze seemed to dive through Yugi's chest and imprison his lungs.

"You were crying," The O.G.'s deep voice said.

Yugi gave a deep sigh and relented. He reached for the napkin and rubbed under his eyes, "Thank you," he murmured. "You didn't have too."

"No, I didn't," The O.G. said. "But I've found myself doing a lot of things I don't need to do." He pulled a steaming cup from behind his back and pushed it across the table in front of Yugi.

A caramel macchiato bubbling to the top with whipped white foam and zigzagged caramel drizzles. The smell whiffed through Yugi's nostrils, stirring a satisfied purr in his chest. When Yugi palmed the warm mug. As it slowly dawned on him who was sitting himself across from him, his chest constricted.

The O.G. paused before sitting himself, "Is there a problem?"

Yugi shook his head, "No, no not at all. It's just, well, I'm surprised. Why would a red blood be in here? Why sit with me?"

"I always sit here when I come to this café."

"Oh."

A pregnant pause followed, "Does my company make you uncomfortable?"

"Yes," Yugi answered honestly. "Not so much _you_ in general," he was fast to add. "It's who you are. Your status isn't easy to overlook."

"And yet here you are talking to me."

"I," Yugi's mouth closed. He chuckled. "I still shouldn't. You kill people."

"I _regulate_, is what I'd call it," The O.G. corrected smoothly. "Killing's such a crude way of putting things."

"It's still murder," Yugi mumbled, drumming his fingers around the cup. "You just confessed to me, you know. I should turn you in."

"You think I would've admitted anything if I was concerned about that?" The O.G. coolly replied. "You don't have the balls. You'd shit your pants before you hit the police station."

Yugi rolled his eyes, "I've clearly lost my mind if I'm sitting here talking to a gang leader."

"That was cleared up moments ago. And you're free to choose another spot to sit."

Yugi gave a small shrug, "No point. I'm so lost in thought; I probably won't remember we're having a conversation. Or better yet, I'll realize this was another opportunity to lose my life when I get some sleep." He rotated cup his mug between his hands. "Have you ever felt that way sometimes?"

O.G. interlaced his fingers together, and leaned to the side, side glancing Yugi out of his peripheral, "Felt what way?"

"Overwhelmed with life? Like everything's taken out of your control. I do things I think are right and later realize I was a total idiot for doing it." Yugi peered down at the soupy foam deforming into a murky white. "I thought I'd resolved my issues when I talked to a friend earlier. He made it sound so easy. Life's a game, he said. But I can't treat life so casually. Not when I have so much at stake. Baseball, someday college, taking care of my grandpa, staying alive," he laughed bitterly at that. "That last one shouldn't even be a priority but it is." Yugi lifted the cup to his mouth and took a small sip. The warmth blossomed as it rolled down his throat. He smiled. "It used to be easier when my brother was alive. Heba could be the responsible one, and I got to mess around and do whatever I wanted. I just knew he'd always be there to clean up the mess no matter what." His grip clenched the ashy glass mug. "Then he had to go and leave everything on my shoulders. He had to get himself killed over bullshit. He should've just come home. Had he'd just listened. All he had to do was come home." Yugi's grip lessened, and once more, he drunk another mouthful, the burn scorching his tongue. "I can blame him all I want, ya know. Heba's long gone and probably living it up somewhere in heaven or hell or wherever we go after this life."

Yugi looked up to find the O.G.'s eyes concentrated solely on him. He hadn't interrupted once, or laughed or dismissed Yugi's whining as another teenager's hormonal struggle. He just listened attentively, the only show of movement being his blinking eyes and the occasional drum of his fingertips.

Yugi chewed his tongue, a light flare of pink tinting his cheeks, "Sorry, I'm rambling."

O.G. shook his head.

"You probably have more to do then listen to a kid complain about his problems."

"If I did, I'd be there doing it," O.G. mumbled behind his braided fingers. "A few minutes lost on me, won't harm another."

"What made you listen to me?"

O.G. bumped his shoulders in a small shrug, "Boredom, more or less."

Oh. He's so honest. Yugi gathered his drink and took another drink, relieved it was still warm, "May I ask why you're out this late?"

"Patrolling," O.G. stated simply. "This hour's less active, but one can never be too caution."

"You do this often?"

"Do you sneak out of the house often?" The O.G. lifted a curious eyebrow at Yugi. "Shouldn't you be heading home?"

Yugi choked on his macchiato and checked the wall clock above his head.

"Shit," It read an evil 7:51. Damn. Yugi scrambled to pull money out of his pocket, coming back with sticky lint and dust. "Damn it, I must've forgot my wallet."

O.G. held up his hand, "It's already paid for."

"You didn't have too—"

"I insist this time," O.G. lowered his hand, no hint of a smile but his voice could melt ice with a whisper. "Go on home, Yugi."

That was twice in one day Yugi shivered like hooked nails were delicately massaging his back. A blush raced up his neck and blanketed his cheeks. He smiled and eased out of the booth to bow and smiled, "I'll pay you back, I promise. Thank you very much, Mr. O.G."

The formal title was waved off, "It's Yami. No mister included."

"Yami," Yugi tasted—tested the name in his mouth and decided right away he liked it. "Thank you, Yami."

Yami's nodded, "Go home."

With that exchanged done, Yugi headed toward the exit. He stopped before pushing the glass door open and saw it at once.

There was no one in the whole café. It was void of anyone, even the cashier. Yugi's eyes subtly strayed over to Yami's face and saw nothing revealing his discomfort of this. Yugi grimly pressed his lips together and left before his opinion of the Red Eyes Leader changed.

For now, he wanted to believe the man was human. Even if it was just for tonight.

* * *

Yami's hawk gaze shattered when his cell started vibrating in his chest pocket. He reached into his pocket and retrieved his android. He didn't check the caller ID, "Talk to me."

"_Eastbound was struck!" _Valon panicky accent flooded the receiver_. "Fuck, oh shit, oh shit. We didn't see 'em comin', Chief. Atem and the whole lot of 'em. Ah fuck—" _

"Aussie, calm down!" Yami barked angrily. He shot out of his seat, stalking toward the exit. "Slow down and tell me where on Eastbound!"

"_Mag—Magnolia and Willow Brook. They burned it to the ground. Ain't shit left in there but ashes!" _Valon left the phone a few seconds to shout orders and tame the chaos riddling in the background.

How the hell—one of the sling houses? Shit. Yami set his mouth in a thin line, "Where the hell is Dennis? That's his sector!"

The silence wasn't a good sign. Yami's growl through the phone urged Valon to speak on, "_He bailed when shit got hot_. _We lost count about eight or nine. Probably a dozen."_ Joey's hair rustled against the receiver as he continued. "_He didn't come alone either. That tight ass, Seth was with 'em. They came rollin' in about five deep and just started blazin' the whole street."_

That son of a bitch. The property was just renovated last month and stored with over thousands worth of merchandise. Yami's index and thumb rubbed the pressure between his eyes. He should've known Atem wasn't going to stay low for long. When a few runners said they'd witnessed him lingering around the playground, it startled Yami out of bed and out on the streets to track the T.O.G. down before he started terrorizing the neighbor.

That'd been around 5:00 this morning. Why had he waited until nearly eight to attack? It didn't make sense. Atem never procrastinated. Yami should've been able to catch his ass.

"Did he kill them?" Yami eventually asked.

Valon snorted bitterly, "_Nah, same as always. He kidnapped them_."

Yami closed his eyes tight, a deep roar of dread souring his mood. Those who were kidnapped wouldn't be recovered. Atem was going to kill them slow and painful and enjoy every minute of it.

Yami sighed, "Damn." Atem was a fool. If he thought this would be handled without retaliation, he was in for a rude awakening. Yami knew very well how to approach this.

Since Atem loved to play games, it was Yami's turn to move.


	5. An Itch

**Author's Rant:** Thanks so much everyone for reading. You're all very awesome! Enjoy the next chapter!

**Warning:** Graphic torture, blood, gore and death.

* * *

**An Itch**

* * *

**Domino City Shipyard: Warehouse 14/Pier 47**

Warehouse fourteen was located in the furthest end of the docks, where the water channel ran underneath the worn down tin building. It was a hidden fortress of malevolet sin, a haven for gamble, sadistic desires and control. The surrounding perimeter was guarded on all sides by swaying surveillance cameras positioned in the corners and wandering soldiers, dressed in their family shades of blue, grey or white. There were twenty men patrolling the area, ten of them carrying black AK47's, M16A4 Assault Rifles, and 9mm handguns.

Inside, the whole warehouse was packed to capacity with Blue Eye Aces.

A thick cloud of white smoke slipped from Atem's parted full lips. His eyes were darkened a deep magenta, overlaid with sadistic cruelty. He'd captured eleven red bloods from the last raid. Just eleven. He, Seth and Isis had taken the West Cove by surprise when they came pouring on the street like a pack of wolves out for prey. Atem had no motive or need to steal a single thing from the sling house. He'd just wanted to get even. Pure and simple. Yami had harmed his soldiers while he'd been out of town. Twenty six of them to be precise.

Atem would've matched that number or more if not for the young distraction that was beginning to develop a habit of occupying his mind lately. . . . He didn't like that.

Money, power and his family were all that should've been on his mind—Yugi, mm, as pleasurable a sight he was, Atem was going to have to scratch that itch before it became a nuisance. Yugi stole away his chance to get a proper vengeance but tonight would do.

Atem would return the favor with the heads of these whimpering children.

Their ages ranged from fifteen to twenty four, all of them nothing but babies trying to be men. Well, this is what happened when you toyed around in the big boy's world. You get sacrificed, get killed or survive long enough to be killed someday. That's the way the game's played. The rules will never change.

Now they'd pay the price in here; none of them would come out alive.

This warehouse was set to resemble a poker room. Overhead stain glassed chandeliers hung over a dozen pool tables, each with about two members to a table. There were televisions lining the ways, all on different sport stations, the news of drama talk shows. Velvet blue and leather couches, tables, and even a small kitchen was built on far the end of the building.

Atem dusted off the ashes from his cigar and pulled it to his lips to suck in the sweet, tart flavor. He closed his eyes and exhaled in one long sigh. The space around his head thickened in smoke. He sat in a velvet armchair with an emerald glass shade lamp to his right and a round table to his left, with a glass of rich Hennessy in a gold goblet. Seth, his cousin by blood and one of the closest members he trusted, was stationed by his side; his right hand man. They were dressed very much the same; a loose fitted Henley shirt, Atem's grey and Seth's royal blue, with some dark blue jeans and Nike shoes.

The five young Red Eyes before him had been the most troublesome during the ambush. So, Atem wanted to deal with them himself. Call it an unnatural compulsion to get even. They were bound by their hands and ankles, blindfolded, and gagged, and forced on the balls of their knees, deaf to the world. No better than newborns after delivery. The rest of the captives were being dealt with in the back by the other leaders.

From the look of things, Marik was enjoying himself the most. The blond young man was pistol whipping the one who spat on Atem's shirt, so casually that Atem could assume the boy was an expert.

When Marik's victim began to vomit blood, though, and some of it got on the floor, Atem heard Yusei's knuckles crack, clench and unfold out the corner of his eyes. '_Somebody's impatient,'_ Atem mentally mused. Yusei, wearing a sleeve-less red shirt and khaki cargo shorts, was a part of the ambush and came in handy often during the short time he'd been in the gang. His only flaw was his recklessness and overeager need to be first.

Atem had kept that one on a short leash for a while, because of his trigger happy exploits. He wanted to see if the young man could prove himself today through performing some entertainment. Atem pulled the cigar from his mouth and beckoned Yusei over with a single flip of his wrist.

Yusei, who'd been sitting at the table holding Atem's wine, stood and walked around to crouch by his leader's leg, "Sir?"

"How long have you been here?" Atem asked, staring at the five bagged heads.

Yusei followed his leader's gaze and smirked, "About eight months. A year if you count the favors I had to do just to get in."

"Hm," Atem hummed approvingly. "Have you ever entertained me before?"

"Depends," Yusei quietly said, voice calm but a hint of respectful fear in his tone. "You mean getting a smile or knowing the tread count in your sheets?"

Atem chuckled. This one was careful. He liked that. Atem leaned to the side to tap the ashes into an ash tray, "I mean this kind of entertainment, young buck." He nodded his chin toward the five captives.

Yusei's blue eyes took on a radiate, mischievous shine, "I haven't had the chance."

"You will today."

That was all Yusei needed to hear before he shot to his feet. He fished out a switchblade from his pocket, and started toward the one in the middle, walking fast as if he'd been anticipating this moment for years. Yusei snatched the bag off and stared.

A head of dark brown hair fell out and fanned all around the young man's shoulders. Atem knew this one; Rex Raptor, if he recalled, about seventeen years old. The patch of white colored hair on his brow, lowered over his eyes as soon as he caught sight of Atem's face.

Atem frowned.

This one was cowardly. He'd be doing Yami a favor to kill this one off.

"How long?" Yusei asked, kneeling by the wide eyed red blood.

Atem shrugged; face becoming riddled with boredom, "Until I'm laughing." His liquid smooth, baritone voice acted as a hammer to nail the silence. Everything ceased in action; televisions shut off, games ceased and conversation died away.

Yusei scanned around the room of onlookers, all of them sporting a hungry desire to see pain and agony dispel from their common enemy. Yusei inhaled deeply and exhaled, drawing out his blade. One of Raptor's arms was wrestled out of the rope and yanked forward in Yusei's lap. He turned it belly up, exposing the strips and designs of RES4LIFE, gothic RES letters and other hand signs.

Yusei's lips tilted in dissatisfaction and he delicately traced his blade's flat end along Raptor's arm. His skin slid off in a neat layer, sifting down like peels of paint off a wall. The blood that followed was bright and thick. The amount filtering off to the sides, better than any butcher knife could carve.

Rex's howl was a muffled behind the blue rag stuffed in his mouth.

Yusei cocked his head, admiring his own skill. He had never done this before, but that didn't matter. He kept at it like it was as simple as peeling the skin off an apple. Raptor's muffled screams had a wild, disbelieving octave to it; like it was impossible for this sort of agony to exist. Ribbons and clean strips of tan skin coiled off the end of the blade and fell to the floor. Raptor's head tasseled and buckled back and forth, pulling relentlessly at his arm.

But Yusei's grip was firm, and unmoving. He used little strength to keep Raptor anchored down while he continued his work. Yusei worked with the precision of a surgeon, fraying the tattooed skin bit by bit, and then going on to slice through muscle ligaments. Blood, scores of it, gushed and bubbled, overlapping on Yusei's thighs; Raptor's eyes rolled to the back of his head many times, but no matter how hard he tried to fall unconscious the raw agony would force him back to reality.

So far, Yusei and taken half the build of Raptor's arm, down to the middle dip of his elbow. Another few carvings and Yusei would've made it to naked bone. He finally looked up after being so entranced by his work and held up Raptor's deformed arm, like presenting a first place ribbon.

Atem coolly arched an eyebrow, tilted his head and grinned from ear to ear before he erupted into laughter, a sound captivating the entire warehouse. It boomed and lasted all of two minutes, before Atem stood from his chair and withdrew his gun, "Now that's entertainment!" he loudly proclaimed. "Take those off," he ordered. "Except that one. He'll get special treatment." He motioned at the youngest to be dealt with last.

Several soldiers came forward and roughly yanked off the brown bags hiding the angry and scared faces of the Red Eyes members. The one closest to Raptor got a firsthand look at his mangled arm and started squirming to inch away.

He was the first one Atem approached and crouched down beside, "Now, now, we'll have none of that." He said amused. "I have something else in store for you," He stood up and pressed his gun barrel in the center of the young man's head. "We're gonna have a health lesson." He lightly tapped the gun's point on his head. "Did you know if I shot you, just about here, you'd still be kicking for another ten minutes? Imagine what that's like. You won't be able to scream, or breath, but the nerve set there will make sure every pain receptor is set on high." Atem barked a short laugh. "It'll feel like you're pissing acid from your brain."

"Mmm mmm mmm!" The gang member squealed, bobbing from side to side.

Atem's amusement solemn up fast, "Take your death like a man, young buck. We're all gonna meet our make sometime. I'm just giving you an early invite," The boy glared up, tears perching on the ends of his eyelashes. He was scared to death. Well, Atem couldn't help that now could he? "Hold still." With a face blank as ice, he pulled the trigger twice.

Chunks of meat and blood flew where the bullets penetrated his skull. The gang member slumped forward, body involuntarily twitching. His eyes were wide, dark red tears pooling from the corners of his eyes as he witnessed his own skull fragments crumbling by his knees. The pain was on a magnitude of its own and, though his mind yowled, he couldn't audibly voice his agony.

There were whimpers coming from the last bagged red blood. His head bowed, and his nose sniffled and blew the bag open and close.

Atem cranked his gun, "I've had my fun with that one," he murmured, referring to Rex. "Do away with him."

Five safety clicks echoed from random directions. Rex shrieked and wobbled to and fro as if the movement alone could spare him. His scream was a wretched, watery gurgle when gunfire flared from all directions. His body jerked back and forth before finally collapsing to the ground, dead.

Atem didn't waste time. He pistol whip the other two, the flesh to metal connection repetitively tingling and clucking. It wasn't until a vicious crunch came from the second that Atem decided he'd had his fun and put a bullet in the last ones. The lingering one with brain damage, he kicked to the side to finish his slow death with the rest of his comrades.

Now, for the youngest. He was the one Atem wanted very much to enjoy. He waved for the others to spread out, and kneeled down to the ball of his knee and reached out to caress the teen's head through the bag. He leaned forward and listened.

Distinct sniffles and whines resonated through the bag. Atem snorted and burst into a wicked laugh. That cued the rest of the Blue Eye Aces to join in his unknown merriment, but the thrill was all the same. Getting to do away with another red blood would put a smile on any of their faces.

"Save your tears, young buck. I'm not Oprah," Atem's finger's bunched around the bag and dragged it down until a head of beige and chocolate brown hair steadily freed itself and flared on all sides. His eyes were as expressive as a baby fawn with enough fire to manifest the devil. Despite the tears, this lad looked ready to take on the world and anyone else prepared to take him down.

That look though . . . . It gave Atem pause for an instant. His smile faded, his eyebrows pinched firm and it was at last, he realized that determined glare could rival a certain young man he'd spoken to last night. _Yugi_— Atem shook his head, forcing back the subtle change. It came and went like a light switch. He was back to being in control. He was Atem, Blue Eyes T.O.G. again. Those emotions he'd explore another time. He _will_ explore them again. He focused his gaze on the young man again and took him in one up and down swipe.

Black skull t-shirt, ragged dark blue jeans and white Puma tennis shoes. His eyes could pull a thousand souls into their cinnamon brown depths. Atem lowered his head further and stared into kid's eyes so close that panic set the boy's body on fire. He eventually looked away. Atem smirked at that. Good. He wasn't as stupidly brave as he tried to portray.

"Let's see, what to do with you," Atem murmured, his fingers reaching to delicately frame the heart shaped face. "Oh, you're not so hard on the eyes." His index and thumb pinched the boy's chin and roughly twisted his face from side to side, admiring his profile. It flattered him on both sides, though he had a better angle from his right. Atem's index brushed against where the white rag gagged the teen's lips. The tip of his finger hooked in the slack and pulled down.

"Ah," Atem purred, running his thumb over the reddened plump. "Look at that. Ripe like a strawberry and just as smooth as a baby's ass. Mm, mm, mm, so sexy," That brought some lecherous chuckles from the surrounding crowd. When Atem's finger traveled lower, dipping in the space where the boy's neck disappeared in his shirt, the boy slinked away the way a child would after seeing a snake slither pass. Atem's smile widened, "You don't like me touching you?"

"No," The boy managed to finally say. The hinted edge in his voice could crack a brick, "I don't want any of your filth touching me!"

Atem coolly arched a brow, his smirk smaller. The butt of his pistol snapped across the boy's face. He fell to the floor, a whimpering heap. Something in the way he scrunched on the floor, legs bent to his chest and face tucked in, said he'd never experienced pain this intense in his life.

A moment from behind nearly caught Atem off guard, but it didn't happen a second time. The next moment, Yusei was crouched by his side; palms open and out to show he wasn't armed. Atem tilted his head back, "Can I help you?"

A short intake of breath drew the pair's attention down. The boy's eyes had gone so wide, every stitch of white was visible, "Yusei?" the boy murmured, flooded with relief. "Help me."

Yusei's face looked torn, the first broken expression Atem had ever seen on the teen.

Atem reared back, the shock in his mind dissipating as a chill like winter surged forth. He held out his gun, point blank between Yusei's eyes. "Something you wanna tell me, young buck?" Seth appeared from behind, drawing out a 9mm, aiming at Yusei's head.

Yusei's blue eyes darted in every direction he heard the soft clicks of fingers smoothing over triggers. He respectfully lowered his eyes, looking up the slightest to stare in Atem's dark gaze, "He's not a Red Eye."

So few words and yet that did enough to make the silver barrels drop. Even Atem's as he skeptically switched his gaze from Yusei to the boy still hunkered on the floor. "Is he a relative to any of them?"

"No sir."

"Then why was he in the sling house?"

A soft cough, "I was looking for my friend. I hadn't seen him in months," The boy quickly said. "I'd got lost when they caught me . . . and then when you showed up."

"You live in Red Eye Territory?"

"No, I'm in Medium grounds."

Well, that did it. Atem rolled his eyes and pushed himself up to his feet. Just the mention of Medium Territory left a bad taste in his mouth. Atem couldn't kill this brat even if he had the power of the president behind him. Immunity was sound and guaranteed. Pegasus kept a diligent attendance of every single resident that lived within his domain. Roll call was recorded every three hours and if a single one was missing, he had connections more thorough then Yami and Atem combined to find out where the missing was. That was the kind of fire Atem didn't need lit under his ass.

"Let 'em go," Atem announced to any and every one.

Yusei sneered at one of the grunts coming forward to loosen the kid's restraints. He took care of the deed himself, helped the brunet up and escorted him to the closest exit, after nodding his gratitude to Atem.

The T.O.G. watched until the young men disappeared in the shadows before turning to his cousin.

"Can we trust him, cousin?" Seth questioned, eyes locked on the back of Yusei's head.

"Yusei won't betray us," Atem said. "He's young, but he's proved himself enough to earn my trust. I think he's got a thing for that one though. He looked ready to take a bullet for him." Yusei vanished out the door with his load. Atem turned to Seth and motioned for him to follow. "Have Marik and the others get ready for our close-up." The tip of his foot slid around the pool of blood dribbling from the dead bodies. "It's time we gave Yami his present."

"Are you going to deliver it personally?"

"I may. I may not. I've got other matters to address," Atem said quietly.

"Such as?" Seth probed.

Atem chuckled, "An itch that needs to be scratched before it becomes a rash." It was such a shame he couldn't be there to see the O.G.'s face. Atem enjoyed the look of murder in Yami's eyes. But someone else's bright eyes captured his attention.

Yugi Muto.

* * *

Yusei took in the salt and sour scent of the tumbling waves washing against the broad sides of the shrimp boats, personal speed boats and commercial yachts. A downward slope lead to the under parts of a wooden pier; away from prying eyes, away from suspicious ears and away from everything. Yusei carefully glided the brunet to a spot hidden in such a way that he could see Warehouse fourteen, but no one could see him.

Yusei closed his eyes and relinquished the anxiety quaking in his chest. "You idiot!" He spat so viciously, the splash of the ocean could split on his command. "What the hell were you thinking, Jaden? Coming out here by yourself—God, why didn't you stay home? Do you know what could've happened if we hadn't shown? Your dumbass would've been six feet under?!"

The brunet winched like he'd been burned for every shouted question.

Yusei's strong hand gripped his chin and forced it up. Jaden shuddered in surprise and stared. So many things were running in his mind, such as answers to Yusei's questions, questions of his own and more importantly, the fact that he was here, standing before him after not seeing his boyfriend for three months. Yusei was right here, he was _so_ close. Those royal blue eyes were poisonously pure and soft and concerned and what Jaden finally realized, was fear.

He'd been scared for him. Yusei had been worried.

Jaden blinked away the sting teasing the back of his eyes and leaned forward very slowly. His hands came up and tentatively bunched into Yusei's shirt, "I'm sorry," He whispered. "I just, I was worried. You hadn't been at your house in months. I hadn't seen you at school. No one's seen you around. I thought the worst. You don't call; you don't even send messages anymore. What am I supposed to think? What am I supposed to do?"

There was a long while before Yusei's arms rose up around Jaden and held him tight to his chest, "You're supposed to wait until I come to you." Yusei sighed, tucking Jaden's head under his chin. "We've been through this Jad'. Just wait a while until I get my dockets together, than we can get our own place."

"I'm not rushing that anymore, Yusei," Jaden pulled his face away, resting his chin on Yusei's chest, eyes up and sad. "Do you have any idea what I go through at night? All I do is worry and wonder. When is Yusei coming home? Is Yusei alright? What if this happened, what if that happened? I'm getting sick of it, Yusei. I'm tired!" Jaden shrugged himself away, voice carrying higher and higher for every confession.

Yusei clenched his fists together, "You're so sick of it that you'll walk into Red Eye Territory?"

"I needed to know where you were!"

"So you think to ask my enemies?" Yusei spat. "You know my head's got a price right? Were you thinking before you acted? Damn it Jaden, just whispering my name to the wrong people could get you killed!"

"And I don't want to have to live like that!" Jaden snapped back angrily. "It's bad enough we have to hide our relationship but now I have to be careful of whom I talk too? That's bullshit Yusei! Joining this gang hasn't made things easier; it's only made it worse."

Yusei's eyebrows pulled into a tight scowl, "How else do you expect me to get the money we need so fast, Jaden? It's either this or wait another two years until you graduate. I can get the money we need faster this way. Can you just," Yusei sighed, depleted of the energy to fight with his boyfriend. "Just trust me alright? Give me a couple more months. Three, max. Once I collected all we'll need, I'll get us our house in Medium Grounds. Can you trust me to do that?"

". . . I trust you Yusei," Jaden said, and stopped because his voice was cracking. What he couldn't say was how much he didn't trust the Blue Eye Aces. He despised the whole lot of them for the way they dominated the frontal half of the city. No one lived the way they should. It was a constant bodily reflex, having to glance over your shoulder every once in a while to be sure you weren't being followed home. The city was dark and damp, even when the sun was suspended above like a hovering pot of gold. Jaden couldn't walk out of his high school without seeing foot soldiers lingering outside the schoolyard, hanging around the fences or trying to lure empty hearted students into their vicious world.

It was a struggle trying to keep his younger brother from being warped in the head by the Blue Eyes promises of wealth, protection and fame. Having to go a different direction to reach their house was inconvenient because it sometimes lead to a new batch of blue bloods waiting in the shadows.

Jaden folded his arms and turned away. It was Yusei that believed if he joined the Blue Eyes, it'd take the heat off of their high school and more so, off Jaden's younger stepbrother, Syrus. It worked fine in theory but it wasn't long before the gang came migrating back to the school grounds, recruiting more lost souls.

Jaden had enough complications as it was being fifteen and dating an eighteen year old senior of their high school. Keeping it a secret from their peers was one thing and now from the rest of the world? When would the conditions end?

He suddenly felt strength and full warmth of Yusei at his spine, like a blooming inferno furnace, and the way Yusei lowered his head to nuzzle the back of Jaden's neck. His breath sighed out long and drained, as though wondering what he had done to deserve Jaden in his life. Funny thing was, Jaden was wondering the same thing; both the good and the bad. "I'm ready for us to be together, Yusei. I'm tired of all these lies, the absences, all of it. You're never around to hold me. I can't hold you. I'm sick of it."

Yusei fastened his arms around Jaden's shoulders, strong as a python's embrace and tugged back until Jaden melted against him like clay molded into place, "Don't make me feel guilty for doing this, babes." Yusei said so that could feel and hear his desperation against his skin. "It'll get better, I promise.

Jaden twisted to look up at him with a slight smile, "No it won't, but like I said, I trust you." He laid his temple on Yusei's lips and closed his eyes, instinctively relaxing as he always did because he knew somehow Yusei had the solutions to all their problems.

"You should go," Yusei murmured against Jaden's brow. "Before Zane sends his dogs out."

"I know. Call me as soon as you get home, kay?"

"Definitely. . . ." Yusei leaned in. "I missed you."

Jaden drew closer to him, his breath wafting over Yusei's face, "I missed you too."

It'd been so long. So very long. Jaden didn't dare breathe when Yusei's lips pressed against his, soft and testing, because he feared waking up. It was better than before, hotter, sweeter, and more familiar because he already knew Yusei's tart, wet taste. Jaden exhaled shakily when Yusei's hand came to rest against his jaw. Fire, molten as the first sunrise, pooled in the pit of his stomach. Yusei stepped closer, letting his hands slide around Jaden's waist, taking over fully by tilting his head down, using his height. Jaden let his mouth go where Yusei wanted it. He trusted him that much. Yusei's tongue probed Jaden's lips apart and sunk in. It was better than heaven, better than the best kind of aphrodisiac. Jaden opened his mouth and Yusei curled his tongue into the brunet's mouth with a rough flick, exploring everything within as if he'd only get this one shot.

The kiss intensified. Teeth clicked, nips exchanged, tongues wetly traced over lips. For every drawled moan Jaden exhaled, it drew a darker vibration in Yusei's chest. The ocean drowned out the wet smacks and heavy breathing.

Before long, it was over way too soon. Yusei ended the kiss with planted touches on Jaden's lips, his jawline, his neck and finally, his forehead. There, was where Yusei left his lips to rest, "Shit, Jad', I've missed those kisses."

Jaden chewed his bottom lip to stifle the unmanly giggle. If there was one thing he dearly missed, it was leaving Yusei breathless after a make-out fest. Being able to leave someone as controlled and quiet as Yusei just did something to your ego.

"You better go," Yusei whispered, smoldering with lust. Though that was what he said, his hands still wandered and groped Jaden's ass.

Jaden squirmed and this time, he did giggle, "Alright," he leaned away to kiss Yusei's lips again and wiggled out of his arms, back stepping toward the slope. He paused where the pier started to devour the sight of Yusei's face. "Take care." He took off without looking back.

Good thing. Yusei wasn't sure he would've been able to let him go. When he was sure Jaden made it across the docks, Yusei made his way back to the warehouse.

* * *

No movies, no television, no games, no hanging out and no trips to the park for the next month. Yugi knew grandpa had a mean streak but damn. Prison inmates had a better lifestyle.

Solomon Muto had been absolutely furious this morning. As soon as Yugi walked through the front door, the old man had been waiting at the dinner paper writing a list of chores, extra duties and other crazy punishments he could think of. Yugi's curfew was even kicked up a whole four hours. Scratch that, five after he protested about being too old to have a curfew. Now Grandpa expected him home at eleven o'clock and that was _after _his sentence was over.

Yugi lounged in his class seat, positioned about three rows back from the teacher's desk, one row away from Tristan. He glanced out the window and sighed. It was beautiful outside. After all the rainfall it left the grass shimmering like a seabed of emeralds. He'd get a chance to enjoy a smidge of the lovely afternoon while attending baseball practice after school.

"Damn," Yugi groaned, rolling his eyes.

Chemistry was so boring, it should be criminal. Nothing made sense, the periodic table looked like vomit splashed on mathematics and the teacher had a voice dryer then a Texas powder house in the middle of July. Yugi couldn't keep his eyes from crossing or stop twirling the ink pen dangling out of his mouth. He was wearing the school uniform of royal blue blazer, white short-sleeved, button-up shirt, and blue dress slacks and black Reeboks. His feet kicked out and saddled in the desk basket in front of him as he tried once more to pay attention. Yugi's only freebie was listening to Tristan's snoring and watching Duke's outrageous attempts at flirting with the girls.

However, Yugi wouldn't say today was all bad. His mind was trapped between two dimensions, one revolving around Atem Hassan and the other wrapped around Yami. Last night, or rather this early morning conversation he had with the men, left him feeling, maybe exposed and embarrassed. Too much was said to both of them about his stress, about his past life and the emotions he struggled with nearly every day.

Atem advised him to go through the throes of life, like one would a chess board. Just wait until your move comes and when it does, make it count. Then there was the O.G., no Yami—Yugi preferred his thinking of his name—that hadn't said more than ten words, but managed to carry his weight of the conversation just fine.

He listened.

They were both, different and so much alike. They were starting to occupy Yugi's thoughts more frequently as the class day progressed on. He wondered about their lives beyond what he knew of them. Such as Atem. For Kisara to be attending a private elementary, spoke high of his status; he had either money or great connections. So what did he do for a living? Where did he live? His personality was too languid to be anything strenuous. The way he walked too, though, spoke years of experienced authority and grace. He could get whatever he wanted without a word. That's the air Yugi breathed from him whenever he spoke to the man.

But that one time hours before, his voice had been hauntingly chilled. Like, he hadn't even tried to hide the fact that he could be a dangerous person. . .

And then there was Yami, quiet, deadly, guarded on all sides with a cold face equivalent to a December winter. Yugi witnessed firsthand what Yami was capable of. His people followed him and obeyed without protest. Yami didn't need to reinforce his authority. He expected it to be followed; his aura could command an entire shopping mall to respect him as soon as he walked in the center of a crowd.

And the way he smiled those couple of times. . . . It didn't seem to fit. Yugi shook his head. No, that's not the way to describe it. Yami had his face set in such a way that made his smile look foreign, almost alien.

Which was a pity. He looked very dashing when he was civil and not ordering the destruction of half the city. He walked like he owned the world and could buy the rest at any given moment. The same went for Atem. When he allowed himself to be himself, aloof and smooth, he was devilishly fine.

Yugi sighed the third time that afternoon. Why couldn't he find decent guys or girls with the same kind of traits? Too many were wrapped up wanting a piece of his fame or locking him down to prevent others from getting his "future" paycheck.

Yugi chuckled to himself. He wouldn't dare admit it aloud, but he'd gained a subtle attraction to the two men. Atem's skin reminded him of his grandfather's Hennessy collection, smooth and strong to the touch. And Yami, he was just, damn. His sex appeal was outrageous. It should be against the law for someone to have a physique that cut.

Yugi lost himself for a moment fantasizing when an authoritative voice broke over the intercom, "_Mr. Tanaka, do you have Yugi Muto?"_

Tristan jolted awake at once. The classroom stopped everything they were doing to stare at Yugi, including Mr. Tanaka. The teacher snapped his book shut, lifting a grey eyebrow, "Yes, he's here."

"_Could you send him up to the office for a moment please? He will return." _

As soon as the intercom clicked off, the classroom was abuzz with students grouping in threes and fours to collaborate theories on why Yugi Muto, A/B student, star baseball player, handsome student and well-mannered teen, was being called to the front office? Yugi blinked dumbfounded until Mr. Tanaka gestured for him to head on to the front office and to make sure he returned to get the notes he'd miss while away.

Tristan grabbed Yugi's hand when he stood, "Everything alright?" He asked.

Yugi shrugged, "I'm not sure." He was just as puzzled as the rest of the class. Yugi could recall only being called to the office twice in his life. The first time was about his mother's passing. The second time was when Grandpa had come to tell Yugi about Heba's murder.

He gulped.

"You want me to come with you?"

Yugi squeezed his best friend's hand assuredly. Tristan's been around throughout the years to comprehend Yugi's apprehension. "I'll be fine," Yugi said. "I'll ask the secretary to call if I need you."

"You better," Tristan reluctantly let go. "You got twenty minutes, Yug'. I'll risk gettin' detention if you're not back by then."

"Got cha'," Yugi walked out of the classroom as fast as he could and when his feet touched the glassy marble floors in the hallway, he made a right and hustled to the front office.

All kinds of scenarios played in his mind like an old slideshow. What if Grandpa was hurt? Did he fall and hurt himself carrying a shipment of cards? Had someone broken in and hurt him? Yugi refused to believe it was something worst then an injury. Anything beyond, and he'd go out of his mind.

Yugi made it to the glass door leading inside the office when a large dark hand pressed the frame above his head. Yugi couldn't open the door if he tried. It came as a big enough shock to make Yugi whip around fists automatically rising in defense.

His mouth fell open when it was Atem's smiling face hovering above him instead of a possible bully. Yugi eyed Atem's body and lingered on the darkening shade of his eyes before he sighed his name, "Atem."

* * *

Something wasn't right.

Anything out of the ordinary always put Duke on guard, especially in school. Here was the only place he got a peace of mind and guaranteed predictability. His instincts were strung up like electrified streamers, pinpointing everything that didn't fit. He dismissed the group of girls he'd been talking too and stood up to investigate every face. No one looked suspect in here as far as he knew.

Duke walked up to the teacher's desk, palms pressed on the surface and leaned in, "Mr. Tanaka, you mind if I have a look around? Its Medium business."

Mr. Tanaka blinked once, then blinked again before recognition quickly flickered on his face, "Oh yes, yes of course. Please, go ahead."

"Thank you," Duke left the classroom without a word. The Medium's badge he kept pinned inside his jacket came in handy as he went in and out of each classroom, scanning the faces of the students inside. The mix of Red Eyes and Blue Eyes weren't any different than the usual crowd. He kept a tight record log of each gang member attending school here and knew their whereabouts when they were absent.

So far he noticed nothing. Duke arrived to the transparent bridge connecting the East building to the West building. The two-way hall had floor to ceiling window panels that opened to the front parking lot and back parking lot. He stopped in the center to eagle eye both sides. Perhaps he'd notice something.

There wasn't much to see. Just the usual faculty members and janitor staff.

Duke gave the front view a look around and zeroed in on two cars.

His green eyes grew big and the air became trapped in his lungs. On the east end of the parking lot was a royal blue 2012 Cadillac CTS and on the west side was a crimson 2013 Cadillac XTS, parked near the baseball field.

Duke rubbed his eyes to be absolute sure because it wasn't often you saw something this unrealistic.

When neither car evaporated into his imagination, Duke's heart sink, "Shit!" He backed away and sprinted for the emergency stairwell. He pulled out his phone and dialed for his boss. "Mr. Pegasus we got a problem." Duke had no clue what would bring the Blue Eyes T.O.G and the Red Eyes O.G. to the same school and frankly he didn't give a damn. Red and blue never mixed.

* * *

"Finally remembered my name, did you?"

Yugi stiffened like he was struck by lightning. His stomach was doing somersaults, cartwheels and merry-go-rounds as he was held helplessly in place, staring warily at the dark tanned man. Their eyes were locked until Atem's face seemed to be coming closer. Yugi shook his head and averted his gaze to a corner behind Atem's head. His wiry body dipped and moved around Atem to stand behind the man. Atem followed his every move, matching each step so fluid; they could've been dancing.

"What are you doing here?" Yugi asked, caught in mixed feelings; partially glad the office call had nothing to do with his grandfather and partially trying to adjust to the fact this was actually Atem standing in front of him.

Atem inclined his head, smiling, "I came to see you." He took Yugi by the arm and steered him forward to ruffle his hair. "You don't look as happy to see me."

"I am, I mean, yeah. It's just so sudden," Yugi shrugged free, running a hand through his hair to add shape to where Atem flattened it. "I was expecting my grandpa, is all." Speaking of which, that made Yugi wonder. "Why would you want to see me?"

"I had my reasons."

"Which are?"

Atem's eyes flashed and thinly narrowed, a sharp grin curving his full lips, "Kisara wanted me to say she'll be staying home for a few days. She was feeling a little under the weather this morning."

"Oh," Yugi's heart skipped a little beat. "She'll be ok, right? Is there anything I can do?"

Atem chortled softly, "Your concern's touching. She'll be happy to hear how _worried_ her friend is." Atem winked, "You needn't worry. A small cold is all it is. The doctor says she's gonna need a couple of days of bed rest, but I doubt she'll need that long. She's tough like her daddy."

Yugi had no doubt she was and just as pretty as her daddy too. "How did you convince them to let you see me?"

"I'm an old acquaintance here, plus I fund a good deal of the school's extracurricular activities," Atem said simply and snorted. "With all the money I'm investing, I'd better be allowed to do as I damn well please. They owe me that much."

It slipped, Yugi noticed. That carefully placed carefree expression slipped for an instant when Atem said that. Yugi saw a darker version of him then. He wondered why.

Just as quickly as it was revealed, it disappeared in the same moment. Atem focused on Yugi again, the mask of casual aloofness back in place.

"What is it you do exactly?" Yugi asked without question. At Atem's curious stare, Yugi elaborated, "I'm wondering because of what you said. You can afford to donate money to the school and Kisara attends the private elementary school down the street. Actually," Yugi scratched behind his head, a small smiling playing on his lips. "I'm curious about a lot of things about you. You know some of my depressed life and I don't know anything about you besides you being thirty, you have a daughter and . . . I don't think I know much else. It's not fair really."

"Not fair?"

Yugi shook his head. "No, it isn't. If we're going to be around each other often, I think it'd be good for us to learn a little bit about the other."

Atem lifted an eyebrow, "You really want to know who I am?"

Yugi nodded, missing the serious tone in Atem's voice, "If that's alright, yes. It'd even out the grounds between us, I think."

"Splendid idea," Atem wistfully praised. "I think this Saturday would be a good a time as any. Perhaps, seven o'clock. You, me and Kisara at the Shay la Belle."

Yugi blinked, "Wait, I'm sorry, what?"

"You'll need to dress formally of course," Atem continued like Yugi hadn't said a word.

"Mr. Hassan—"

"Atem—"

"What-ever," Yugi snapped, irritably. He couldn't stand people making decisions for him at the drop of a hat. "I appreciate the invitation Atem but I'm grounded. My grandfather isn't going to allow me to go out this weekend or any other time this whole month."

Atem narrowed his eyes, "Does it look like I give a damn what your grandfather said?" He said in a quiet, steely voice.

"Does it _look_ like I give a damn whether you care or not?" Yugi returned, sternly. "That's my grandfather and I will respect his decision."

Atem tilted his head innocently, and then drew his head back to laugh to his heart's content and laugh he did. The musical tenor ping ponged off the walls, carrying their baritone octaves from here to the second year classrooms at the end of the hall. Yugi had to restrict the shudder raising a blush across his cheeks. That sound had white hot fire liquefying in his groin. Whatever the joke was flew right over his head. As sexy as Atem's laugh was, Yugi didn't see what was so funny. He was being dead serious.

"There's so much fight in you, young buck," He somber up, smirking and pulled Yugi by the arm to his firm, hard, warm chest. Yugi stumbled as he lost his balance and in the process ended up with both palms pressed flat against the man's chest.

'_Oh, oh my,'_ Yugi's eyes grew wide as car tires. His fingers were framed around the outer rim of some well-defined pectorals. _Jesus_, Yugi mentally hummed. His fingers acted on their own and discreetly squeezed. Yugi licked his dry lips. It was like cupping sliced melons. Yugi vaguely wondered in his empty conscious, if the rest of Atem's body was this chiseled.

His hands, being such curious devils, started guiding themselves down the path of no return until a sizable hand crushed Yugi's fingers in their depths. Atem's breath fanned Yugi's ear, "Don't play with fire, Yugi," Yugi's insides turned to lava. This man's voice was turning his brain to jelly. "You'll get burned dealing with me."

A lithe arm wrapped around Yugi's waist; Atem's spice wood and cinnamon scent completely overwhelmed the delicate clean smell of the lemon pine sol in the hallway, wrapping around Yugi almost tangibly. It smothered him alive, pleasurable heat seeping through his clothes him. Yugi swallowed hard, and said the first thing that came to mind, "I'm not afraid." He failed pitifully to add the fearless tone in his voice.

"You don't have to be afraid. By Saturday, though, you better be," Hot, moist lips grazed Yugi's cheek in a slow, deliberate kiss. Atem's lips lingered, smooth as melted caramel. Treacle poured into Yugi's face like a hot flash.

His stomach went in five directions. If a kiss to the cheek affected him this much; what on earth would those lips feel like against us?

Finally, finally, at last, Atem pulled away. Yugi shivered as the air chill replaced Atem's kiss as the older man clipped Yugi's chin and turned on his heel towards the exit. "Be ready for pick-up by seven o'clock and I'll have you back by eleven. Midnight at the most."

Yugi's fingertips delicately traced his cheek. It still burned, "I never agreed."

Atem stopped at the doors, and looked over his shoulder, "I don't remember ever asking." Deep autumn became as dark as a red full moon and narrowed. That mask was dropped again. Yugi saw it in full effect. This man was someone completely different from the one he'd met. "You'll go because I said so. You don't need any more reason than that." With that said, Atem left Yugi alone in the hall, palm cupped to his cheek wondering if he really should be afraid of this man.

Yugi numbly bumped his back against the sidewall and sighed.

Was it fear or excitement, he was feeling right now?

Something had his heart beating a million miles per hour.

* * *

"Give me one reason not to put a bullet in your head, right now?"

Well, wasn't this a surprise.

Atem wrinkled his nose, fingers twitching and eyes narrowed at the jet black Glock 45 handgun aimed a mere inch from his face. "Is that supposed to scare me?" He dangerously mumbled.

"Mighty last words," Yami clicked the safety off. "Is that what you want carved on your tombstone?"

Atem's eyes darted for a moment—just a small moment to the side and returned to gaze at Yami's face, not his gun. He'd known his rival was in the vicinity when he arrived at the high school. Just how close in range he was, was a whole different story. When Atem made it to his car, he was clicking the alarm off his car and ready to get in when a metallic _click, clack_ hummed in his ears.

He knew it was Yami. He'd developed an obsessive sense for the man over the years and had the same conscious reflex to keep his back away from him. Yami was wearing a mid-sleeve and pale lavender dress shirt, which was draped around his body casually enough that one could imagine the lines of his chest and shoulders beneath it. He had on some _7 for All Mankind_ acid washed grey jeans flare around a pair of dark brown python loafer shoes.

He outmatched Atem's Sean John jumpsuit by a couple of hundreds, easy. "Did you want something, Young Blood?" Atem asked bored.

"Where are they, Atem? I got ten men missing and last word was you were the last one to see them." Yami said quietly.

Atem snorted, "Don't ask questions you already know the answer too. We're too old for that shit."

"Humor me today," Yami gave a warning wave of his gun. "Are they alive?"

Atem ran a hand through his spiny hairs and shrugged, "No, they're not," He caught a blond bane between his fingers and massaged each strand. "I killed each one. _Slowly_."

Yami grimaced, "Why? I didn't kill your men!"

Atem met his gaze evenly. "I'm not you, Yami. I play to win. You play to get ahead long enough until I get there." He took one step forward. The gun's muzzle touched his forehead. "You could avenge your little boys right now if you want. But then, who would be left to keep this game going? That and," Atem nodded his head to the side. Yami's eyes blinked to the side once and looked back. "Pegasus is sitting outside the parking lot watching our every move. He could end our game immediately. Just a single word and its' over."

"So what? I'd win."

"And have no one else to match moves with? Oh Yami, you know better. Even if I had the chance to end it all, I wouldn't. Where's the fun in that?"

"I'm not you, Atem," Yami replied callously. He was inwardly gratified to see Atem's eyebrow twitch at having his own words returned. "I play by my own rules."

"So, play then." Atem pressed his head harder against the gun, metal denting in his skin. "I'm right here. Don't hesitate. Unless playing _pussy_ is a part of your rules—"

Yami drew his gun back and whipped it across Atem's temple, snapping his head to the side. He tasted blood the instant the metal left his face. Atem's face stayed turned to the side forever, eyes screwed shut and teeth clenched like metal clamps. _Motherfucker_, he mentally raged. His hand twitched in his pocket, begging to coil back and return the favor. He wouldn't because it wasn't how Atem responsed. It was how the Blue Eyes T.O.G responsed.

"My rules," Yami sneered, peering up at him. Even when Atem faced his rival with a burning expression made for melting iron, Yami stood his ground. "This is my game to win, Atem. _Mine_. You may think you've got this whole system figured out but I'll be the last one standing. You don't get to determine that. Your death is mine to savor; it's reserved for my pleasure. Your mind games don't mean shit to me."

Blood dribbled from Atem's right nostril; a burgundy teardrop on his dark face. He was angry, no doubt. Enraged was the better term. His thumb swipe up and cleaned off the blood spill. He closed his eyes and sighed. "You really believe that, Young Blood?"

"Damn right."

"Really, prove it."

Atem was upon his equal in seconds and caught Yami in an imprisoning embrace that held his own arms firmly at his sides. They wrestled back and forth, side stepping each other, grunting against the force used until Atem held Yami's back to the side of his car, hands locked behind his back. Yami wrenched at his arms, irritated to find that Atem's grip was stronger than his. Yami grunted as the back of his head was slammed into the hood of the car, hand twisted behind his back

Breaths came in rasps heaving, sweat beaded down the side of Yami's face and he kept squirming until he realized he was anchored down with over a hundred and eighty pounds of raw power, muscle and the scent of spice in his nostrils. Heat erupted all over his body.

And he hated it. He hated it so much.

Atem smirked, "Is that all you've got, Young Blood?" His hips wormed until working his knee between Yami's thighs. The younger man groaned and had to shut his eyes, because his eyes were scorching along with all the rest of his body. Atem moved his knee smoothly out of reach, and then bent down to whisper in Yami's ear, "You still want me, don't you?"

"Fuck you!" Yami spat acidly.

"Anytime you want it baby boy, I'm yours," Atem licked the shell of his ear wrist, rolling his tongue up and down as thoughtfully as though he'd needed the taste there. Yami struggled and failed and quivered and then despised himself for crumbling even a smidge. He knew Atem, with his sharp eyes and calculative mind, would see that and know how to use it. "You know what this thing between us is called, Young Blood? Sexual tension. We outta release it every once in a while with a good _fu-ck_." He flicked the last word with a wet cluck of his tongue inside Yami's ear.

"Get off me!"

"Do you really want me to, Yami? Is that what you want," Atem dryly whispered; his breath was a furnace in Yami's ear. There was tension chasing up the younger man's body. Atem dipped his torso down so that his chest pressed into Yami's, and rocked back and forth, hips grinding down, his groin sliding along the seam of his pants. Yami shuddered with a little gasp through his clench teeth. Fire flashed the length of his body, and he felt all his muscles flexing. "It doesn't feel like it," Atem continued, because he knew the idea sounded unfathomable, even to Yami's ear. "I should fuck you right here, right now. Make you beg, make you scream."

"No. . ."

"Yes. . . I could touch you," Atem breathed in his ear, with a humid kiss. "Make you writhe. Like I used too . . . remember?"

Yami jerked his face away, "You stole me—"

"I had you first."

"Fuck you!"

"I can do that too."

Yami growled like a wild beast and his instincts became just as untamed_. Get away; push away, get free_, repetitively surged in his mind. His feet stomped, his arms thrashed and his hips buckled back and forth. He didn't know if he broke free or if Atem simply let him go when he started stumbling to the side, nearly losing his footing.

He was on his hands and knees, head bowed and breathing imbalanced. _Atem's behind me. Atem's behind me_, his mind screamed. _Turn around. Defend_.

The sudden pulse of smog blasted his face, a hellish fire. Everything happened in slow motion from there.

The car engine roared to life, Yami's eyes went saucer dish wide as the blue rear end of Atem's car vibrated a foot from his face. He could hear Atem's sinister cackle floating from the open side window as his car floored in reverse. Rubber skidded over the asphalt, kicking rocks and bits of dirt all over the place. Yami scowled and leapt to the side, as the car came careening pass.

The extended exhaust pipe jabbed the side of Yami's face before he was out of danger.

Yami's head bounced off the ground. A nauseating dizziness throbbed in his skull, blinding his eyesight. He couldn't see anything but pure white, as bright as a sunrise in the snow. Blood flooded his ears, and head, he couldn't get his breathing steady or his heart from clawing at his ribcage.

_Fuck._

_Shit. _

That asshole nearly got him. Yami rolled on his stomach and pushed up, slowly, very slowly. He tried to open one, then both his eyes. Yami palmed around for his glock, and found it a couple of feet away. Something glossy, square and black reflected out the corner of his eye. He grabbed it, and flipped it to the side. Colors of red, white and black swam into his vision before Yami could fully make out every gruesome detail.

Atem, Seth, Marik, Isis, Yusei, Shada and about a crowd of maybe twenty or twenty five Blue Eyes encircling the bodies of his missing men aligned on the floor like animal game. That was the thing. It was just their bodies chopped and piled on the floor; arms, legs, hands, torsos and their organs extracted and piled to the side.

They were amputated. All of them. Atem and his crew held their heads out like trophy winnings, presenting their BEA gang signs, half their faces covered in royal blue bandanas.

They had some nerve. Some fucking nerve. The picture crinkled in his hand. Atem needed a reality check. Him and the rest of his messed up cronies were going to need their balls ripped off and handed to them.

Yami felt a sticky stream coming from his cheek. He touched it and came back with a dark red wet tint.

A smile crept on his face. The man not only went into his territory but even came to the school to possibly recruit more Blue Eyes. Because killing a few Red Eyes wasn't enough; he had to come to the school too and try to weasel some students in his clan?

Oh yes, the games were definitely on now.


	6. Subtle Urges

**Author's Rant: **My apologies for this minor late update. Please enjoy.

* * *

**Subtle Urge**

* * *

Both of the gang leaders were arrogant and foolish.

That was Zigfried's sole thought as he witnessed the very evidence of their ignorance through the tinted backseat window of Pegasus's black 2010 Hyundai Equus Limousine. Not even with his partner's arm wrapped securely around his neck, keeping him fastened in place, could Zigfried's animosity towards the T.O.G. and O.G, dampen.

Pegasus felt the slip of warm leave his chest as Zigfried leaned forward to stare angrily out the window, fingers clenched like handcuffs. No amount of comfort would deter Zigfried from what was obviously written all over his face; his prejudice towards gangs.

Right now, he was keeping a close eye on the leaders' interaction in the Domino High School parking lot, merely talking for now and possibly plotting a new means of growing their disgusting clan. There were students stored within those bricks, stuffed like sardines ready to be opened and soiled of their innocence. Zigfried saw the danger for what it was. He knew what could, no, he knew what would eventually happen.

Zigfried could have told his lover over and over the predictions, his theories and probabilities of the city's future and the years of suffering to remain, but Pegasus didn't see the danger the way Zigfried did. There hadn't been a civilian killed in nearly five years by gang violence since the Medium's development, but who's to say the statistics were true? The police could no longer be trusted, since time and time again their allegiance to the government has been compromised numerous times, and there have been alleged connections between both gangs.

That provided a good enough excuse for Zigfried and Pegasus to team together and become one of the growing powers involved with taking control of the violence. They both had power. They both had national support from rivaling peace supporters and a secretive smuggling organization used to acquire weapons so powerful and deadly, it would spin the Yami and Atem's heads for eons.

Atem and Yami knew better than to overpower the Mediums. They've both tried and failed numerous time, and neither were going to bother losing so many of their own again. Cracking down on the blue and red bloods has gained the respect of Mediums from the city dwellers, and granted the Mediums with ample power to control the gangs by only a large margin.

At any given time, if a civil war were to break forth, it would be disastrous. Domino City went through such an event only six years prior. Property damage reached record millions, murders had escalated beyond the state's average and most of them were innocent bystanders.

Zigfried remembered the exact number of deaths. He remembered the exact number of the badly injured. Three thousand two hundred and forty six injuries, six hundred and ninety four deaths and over five hundred and twenty four millions dollars' worth of city damage. He remembered how on that same day he'd watched his younger brother gunned down before his very eyes and shot like a dog.

And it'd only been because he was wearing a red t-shirt when he went to buy a candy bar from a store owned by the Blue Eye Aces.

Zigfried's baby brother couldn't even receive a proper burial or receive enough visitors to remember who he was. There'd been too many other deaths of friends, lovers and family members to attend too for anyone else to remember.

But Zigfried remembered that day, very much so. And right now, more than anything, he wanted to withdraw his 40 caliber handgun to return the favor.

Pegasus stretched his arms out and lowered his palms to settle neatly on Zigfried's shoulders.

"You're tensing up again," Pegasus said, voice smooth as molasses on polished steel.

Zigfried twisted to look at him with a frown, and a less then angry shine in his eyes. Tense, yes of course he was. The two most notorious criminals were no more than a hundred meters away and as unpredictable as a hurricane path. Anything was liable to pop off, so he would gladly say his anxiety was well within reason.

"We should do something, Max," Zigfried lifted his fingers to braid through the pale ones knitting his right shoulder. "Duke didn't call for us here to merely watch. They could be up to something."

Pegasus chuckled, "I doubt even these two would be so bold as to openly cause a ruckus in the middle of the day." Pegasus tugged back until Zigfried melted into the fold of his chest. "And I've known them since they took over the responsibility as leader for their gangs. I won't hesitate to have the rain brought down on them if a single civilian is harmed."

That wasn't good enough. Zigfriedlifted his hand and laid his fingers along Pegasus' jaw, fingers treading through the strands of silvery white hair, "Why wait, mon amour? They're here, right here. We could take them now, end it all," he whispered. "There could be a permanent peace."

"Not so long as there are three powers to control, dear one," Pegasus patiently explained. "It's hard enough maintaining the parts of the city under my reign. Imagine how much harder it would be to keep balance if we were to kill of the kings of their kingdom?"

"They're not kings," Zigfried's voice hardened. "They're savages. Uncouth as wild dogs, out to hunt for no cause."

Pegasus recognized that tone in his partner's voice. A bit of an impatient edge was what it was. His hatred toward the gangs could melt through titanium and make the devil quake on his throne. Zigfried couldn't understand the way Pegasus chose to run things. It could've been based on their age difference, Pegasus being in his forties and Zigfried barely tip toeing near thirty, as to why they saw through different eyes. Pegasus only saw equal power being the way to rule the city. Zigfried only saw there needing to be just one or none at all. It often led them to clashing until the bitter hours of the night and on those rare occasions, until the break of dawn.

Pegasus embraced Zigfried closer to him and Zigfried went into him after a bit of tugging. "I understand your concern—"

"If you do, then do something about it—"

"But with order comes sacrifices needed to keep peace," Pegasus sharply said. "We've had this conversation enough times for me to recite it backwards, Zigfried. Why do you insist on listening to the same song, same verse?"

Zigfried's fingers paused where they'd been stroking Pegasus' jaw and hair. The hair fell cool as spring water, through his fingers. He didn't want to argue. It was exhausting and left little energy to focus on more important agendas. Zigfried lifted his and Pegasus' braided fingers and touched them to his lips, kissing each knuckle in turn.

When he looked up at Pegasus' again, it was to show a deep, dark shine, "It's only because I care, bien-aimé. I must, since I am your conscious. Who else can make you contemplate your decisions before making them?" He proceeded to delicately press softer, feather kisses on their bounded hand.

"That you are," Pegasus let his hands be touched and caressed in a way only he and Zigfried knew he loved. "So, allow me, for the moment, to handle this the way I see fit. If I should happen to appear incapable, by all means interfere."

"That may be sooner than you think. I could never understand your type of logic. It makes no sense to me."

"The only kind of logic I use is fear, which induces respect from them to me. But I concur," Pegasus dramatically sighed. "If it helps you sleep better, I'll have Duke set up a meeting between Yami and Atem, midnight Friday. Will that suffice for better thinking?"

Zigfried nodded, saying nothing more as he pressed closer. This conversation was far from over and so was Zigfried's resolve. Things were far from over. He'd continue thinking as he'd been doing, if his lover wouldn't.

* * *

After school practice was a distraction. That's all it was for Yugi because his mind was busily flipping through the files of his confused brain. Never, ever in his entire life, had Yugi felt so deeply wedged between doing what was right and doing what he knew was wrong.

Yugi was leaning against the fence, housing the batting cage, hands in his pockets and eyes rolled shut. Atem, him and Kisara, were going, supposedly, on a date to the Shay Belle, a notoriously elegant restaurant in the upper half of Domino. How the hell was this man going to decide on Yugi's plans this weekend? Like the concept of _grounded _didn't fit in his vocabulary. And Yugi could've kicked his own ass for not emphasizing the word. Grounded was grounded and no amount of alpha male complexity was going to change that.

Atem, from what Yugi learned a few hours ago, was used to having things given to him on a silver platter and gold spoons. This man had some nerve. Some real nerve. Yugi wasn't anyone's toy to be tossed around at a person's convenience. When someone asked anything of him, he took it as a request, not some high powered demand. And that was going to be a hard lesson Atem needed classes on. Yugi didn't care at this point what sort of employment he had or whatever lifestyle granted Atem this kind of attitude. He wasn't going to be a part of it.

Another hard sigh left his dry lips. Yugi licked them, opening his eyes to the horizon's apricot, crimson and indigo lining.

Atem played him like a fiddle down to the last note, and Yugi waltz right into it. It pissed Yugi off to no end. Another trait Yugi learned about Atem from their last encounter was that the man knew he had charisma. Yes, he knew and he utilized it the way an artist delicately dabbed bits of paint from his canvas. Atem knew what words to say, how deep to make his voice and in terms of authority, he had it down in spades.

The bastard's sex appeal was outrageous.

Yugi shrugged off his gray and black rimmed practice shirt, and hung it on a slack hook behind his head. The tight spandex wasn't helping the tingling sensations flooding his veins. Yugi dragged his hand miserably over his face because he wished now he'd been immune to the older man's effects. If someone had been a witness to the whole ordeal, they'd notice right away how flustered Yugi had been. It wasn't fair for someone to be so sexy and annoying at the same time.

"Muto, you're up!"

Yugi lowered his eyes from the sky to glare across the practice field. Like he thought, practice was nothing but a distraction today and not in a particularly good way. What he really wanted to do was have a repeat of what happened between him and that arrogant, fine ass Atem, so he could straighten this mess out.

Yugi drug his gloved fingers through his hair before pushing off the fence. His gray helmet, royal blue metal bat were plucked off the outer bench. Coach had everyone in regular position today; no substitutions. That meant Tristan was in close enough range to study Yugi's posture, sense his agitation and get an eyeful of his overall person. Yugi gave a frustrated sigh as he mounted the home base, tapping the bat tip on the plastic diamond and waving it back and forth.

The team's second pitcher climbed up the mount, a saucy grin on his face, tossing the baseball up and down, "What's with that face, Muto?" He hollered. "Booty troubles?"

"None of your damn business, Williams," Yugi snippily replied. "Just throw the ball; some of us got places to be!"

"Where you gotta go, half pint? Home? 'Cause last I heard you ain't had any ass in months!"

Yugi gave his bat a wide practice swing, "Throw the damn ball!" He wasn't in the mood for this childish shit.

"Hey," Tristan shouted from first base. "Throw the ball _today,_ Williams. I'm growin' roots here!"

The pitcher chuckled teasingly, tossing the ball from his gloved hand to his other. Trevor Williams was one of the team's clowns. He had a nasty habit of psyching out the hitters with his taunts and rude comments. It worked against the enemy teams, but he didn't know how to discriminate between bothering his team and the others. The way his spring green eyes shun with mischief said he didn't give three damns about Yugi's attitude and wasn't the least bit fizzled by his glare.

"We can stand here all night for all I give a damn. It ain't like any of y'all got pussy waiting for ya—"

Second baseman, Zachery Trenton, growled, propping his hands on his hips, "Come on, Williams! Just 'cause you got Duke's nuts handcuffed, don't mean we ain't got ass waitin' for us."

"I know that's real," Tristan grunted loudly.

"Hey, fuck the both of y'all! And leave my babes outta this—"

A sudden metallic clank and rattle drew the whole high school team toward the dugout. Tristan saw Yugi's bat bouncing off the chained fence and the owner stomping through the batter cage, down through the dugout and toward the locker room. The entire team was left dumbfounded to see their team captain stalking off like a Rottweiler.

"Guess you pissed 'em off," Said Trenton.

"Who? Me?" Williams had the nerve to look innocent. "Hell naw, that wasn't my doing. I told y'all he was having ass troubles."

Tristan would've agreed if he didn't know Yugi as well as he did. Coach was going to get in their ass for not completing practice but hell no one was following proper protocol anyway. And Yugi was his priority. Tristan, being second in command of the team, called for an early break and took off in the same direction as his best friend.

* * *

Yugi couldn't understand why he was so frustrated. He knew better than to take out his aggravation against others; it just wasn't in his nature to be unnecessarily rude. Shoot, he usually kept a leveled head and could laugh off any of Williams crazy teases. It was just, damn, what was it? Atem couldn't have pissed him off this much.

But that man's oversized ego was impossible! Yugi had an intense complex against anyone making him do things against his will. He was eighteen years old. No one except his Grandfather had the natural guardianship to tell Yugi to do whatever he wished. As for Atem? He didn't. That's why Yugi was going to need to straighten this situation out the next time he laid eyes on the man.

Yugi had stripped down to his shower shoes, and went inside the locker stalls, letting the showerhead from one of the stalls pelt him with hot water. The scrubbing and scent of Olay Men's Body Wash erased some of his earlier attitude. But now his mind was clear as a grass field and left to wander. He scolded himself for allowing his mind to caress over images of Atem's sly, autumn eyes, his smiling face, and the deep caress of his voice in his ear, instead of being upset.

His dick twitched and heat pooled in the pit of his belly like an internal sauna.

_Oh shit_, he thought ruefully, licking his lips and straightening up, wincing slightly with discomfort. It's been a while since that had been an issue. Yugi swallowed, eyes closing as his manhood fully erected. When was the last time Yugi had sex? Eight months? Nine? No, no about a year. The last person he'd had relations with was Rebecca. That hadn't worked out as well asthey'd hoped, and the sex had been a means of release. Nothing more.

Yugi winced a second time and hung his head, hands gripping his wash rag and body wash like it was the embodiment of his frustration. Yeah, oh, yeah it's been a while. Especially if he was replaying Atem's voice in his head like a broken record. Those eyes, the regal tone of his voice and how, how Atem seemed to know he could bent Yugi to his will.

Yugi remembered how the older man had looked at him before he walked out the double doors. Atem's intense, fiery autumn eyes had fastened onto Yugi like no one else existed.

"_You'll go because I said so. You don't need any more reason than that."_

For a moment, all the past anger and confusion he felt towards Atem rushed him faster than the shower water. Yugi shivered as the words came flooding through his mind like a sutra prayer. Another twitch of his dick brought a subtle buckle in Yugi's knees.

Yugi had no idea he had it this bad. His body wanted Atem so bad he could almost taste the salty grit on his skin. He licked his lips hungrily and his hand crept downward to his swelling member. It would be so easy to take care of this minor problem. So easy. . .

Yugi clenched his fingers in a tight fist. No, no, no, no! He wouldn't succumb to temptation. He had control over his _urges _and was not going to masturbate in the shower like a sex-crazed teenager, panting at his grandfather's stash of pornos. He needed to get a grip.

Yugi turned the knobs until the water died and grabbed the towel draped across the overhead bar and used it to dry his limp hair. The towel ruffled across his hair, creating a tangled, choking cloud of red, black and blond around his crown. Rearing upright, all of his hair flipped in a single bound, water sluicing in every direction.

The world around him instantly became surrounded in cold air. Anybody else would've reflexively covered their extremities. Not Yugi, because he knew who the idiot was snatching his curtain open.

Yugi glared through terry cloth and hair at his amused best friend with one visible plum purple eye. "Can I help you?" He roughly asked. Pulling the towel down to fall on his shoulders, Yugi pushed back his hair again and stepped out, naked as a newborn.

Tristan grimaced, turning his eyes anywhere but Yugi's package, "Let's start with putting on some clothes. Then we can get to why you're PMSing this time."

"Nothing's wrong with me," Yugi grumbled, stalking to his locker. The combination was undone, and then he pulled out a plain white V-neck tee, a pair of navy plaid boxer briefs, black Nike sweatpants and jet black low top Converse shoes.

"Ohhh, I beg to differ," Tristan took off his practice jersey and flung it behind. "So, here's what's gonna happen." Next, he re-tied his shoe laces, tightened the drawstring on his jersey shorts, and then crackled his knuckles. "Either we do this the easy way or the hard way."

Yugi lifted an eyebrow, "Meaning?"

Tristan hunched his shoulders, fists lifted, "Tell me what's goin' on with ya, otherwise, I'm gonna wax this whole got'damn locker room with your face."

Yugi faced him and blinked, "You're seriously gonna fight me?" He said in total disbelief.

"Why not? You're the one acting like you got a chip on your shoulders," Tristan straightened up, but kept his fists up. "I don't know what to expect from you."

"So, that automatically qualifies me to get my ass kicked?"

"Yep."

Yugi snorted, "You're crazy."

"No, I'm your friend."

Yugi set aside his towel after finishing up with his hair and focused on Tristan's face. The brunet stood by Yugi's side with a frown, shoulder leaned against the neighboring locker door, his chestnut hair hanging around his face. He was worried, Yugi knew that. Yugi could see the curiosity and concern tumbling off his skin the same as the sweat film coming down his arms and chest.

"Talk to me, Yug'" Tristan softly pleaded. "You've been trippin' since you came back from the office." He paused at that, and then said. "_Did_ something happen in there? Is that why you're upset?"

Yugi had to chuckle. He looked at the tiled floor as small smile grew across his lips. Tristan could transform from best friend to protective big brother in seconds. "It wasn't anything serious."

"So something _did_ happen?"

"Yeah, sort of," Yugi tugged the rest of his clothes before gesturing for Tristan to take a seat on the bench. "It's complicated," Yugi started, carefully tap dancing over what he should or shouldn't say. "Everything that happened Saturday really shook me," he swallowed roughly. "I thought I was gonna lose you, Trist'. All I thought about was when I loss Heba, and then you getting hurt in front of me? I was confused about life and all kinds of shit."

Tristan whistled lowly. "I had no idea you were messed up from that."

"Yeah. . ."

"So, why didn't you tell me how you were feelin'?"

Yugi slipped into a small silence before he said, "I was gonna call after I took a breather to collect my head, but I kinda had a chat with a couple of friends."

"Friends?" Tristan frowned. "Who? Do I know 'em?"

And here was where Yugi needed to tread carefully. "Yes and no. You know one of 'em but the other, not so much."

"Okay? Where did you meet them and how do I know 'em?"

Here goes. "I met Atem last week at the park when I was signing autographs for the kids."

"Atem? That's his name?"

"Yeah, he's one of the children's father—"

"Father?" Tristan sneered awkwardly. "How old is this guy?"

Yugi flinched. "Thirty."

"Thirty?! Yugi—" Tristan started.

"I swear it's not what you think. All we did was talk, that's it," Yugi rubbed the back of his neck. "When he's not being bossy, he's actually a pretty cool guy to talk too. I promise, Trist', if I didn't think Atem was alright I wouldn't talk to him. Besides, he's got the sweetest little girl who needs a friend."

"And not a stepfather, right?"

Yugi gave him a stupid look.

"Right," Tristan skeptically muttered. "And the other guy?"

Yugi took a very deep, breath for this one. "The other guy I talk too kind of helped me out of a tight jam. Twice." Yugi thought it wise he never mentioned wandering into Orange Grove alone. Lord knows he didn't need Tristan in his ear and on his ass for weeks.

"You plan on tellin' me who the man is?"

"Yami," Yugi said in a small rush. "His name's Yami."

"Yami?" Tristan's mind tested the name over and over, coming up blank. "I know him?"

Yugi nodded. "He's the Red Eyes O.G."

Tristan's face went slack with shock, staring with wide eyes and an even wider mouth. His mind went reeling in a hundred million directions as it sunk in and still, he couldn't believe what he'd just heard. Tristan jolted back a little, shaking his head slightly before raising his hands up.

"Hold up, I just went blank," He glanced up to the ceiling as if it held the truth and when he looked back down, discovered that wasn't the case. Yugi was still avoiding his eyes, which only further proved he wasn't joking. "You're sittin' here tellin' me that you've been messing around with the O.G.? Are you fuckin' serious right now, Yugi? That guy's bad news!"

"I know, I know, just hear me out before you go nuts—"

"A lil' late for that, ya idiot! Now my blood pressure's fucked!" Tristan groaned, miserably. "Ugh, Yugi, what the hell is the matter with you? This man would kill people just for looking at him wrong. He could take you out with one blink! Did it ever occur to you that you could wind up like Heba?"

"He's not like that, Tristan!" Yugi defended. "At least, as far as I saw, he isn't. Look, it's not like I intentionally spoke to him. We just happened to be in the same place at the same time and . . . we talked." What they talked about would remain a secret, of course.

Tristan palmed his face, groaning like a wounded dog, "Yugi, Yugi, Yugi come on dude. He's the O.G. of the Red Eye Spades. You can't trust a single word out of this guy's mouth. He could say the moon was shittin' cheese; that don't mean we gotta believe it!"

"We just talked, Tristan! We're not friends or anything. Hell, I probably won't see the man again anyway!" This surprisingly kind of sounded irritating to hear. Yugi wouldn't have minded getting a chance to talk to Yami again if he honestly had the chance. However, chances like those came in lifetime intervals. Yami was always busy doing gang business. There was no way in hell he and Yugi would cross paths again.

"So it was a onetime thing, right? I don't have to worry about you talking to him again?"

"No," Yugi said.

"It better be Yug'," Tristan pushed up to his feet, scowl painted like a scarlet letter on his face. "You better start doing better with your decisions. Messing around with these older men isn't safe. You keep saying you want people to give you a chance to take care of yourself, but so far Yugi, you aren't impressing me with your choice of company." Tristan left without saying another word to his best friend, shoulders tight with disappointment.

Anger rose and left Yugi's chest in one breath. Because, really, could he be mad at Tristan for being cautious?

He wished he was wiser with picking his company too, because now, he was starting to question his own judgment.

* * *

Ryou couldn't believe he'd taken so long to finish up tutoring. His brother was going to kill him. Akefia couldn't stand Ryou coming home after four and hated it even more when he didn't call. Honestly, Ryou would've, but his damn cell had chosen today of all days to die. And there was just so much to do.

First, he had to gather all his books from homeroom, because he foolishly forgot to collect them after the afternoon bell rang. Secondly, he was going to have to go to his locker to get his biology book because he left a few notes for tomorrow's exam there. And thirdly, he was going to need to get the Jordan's Akefia bought for him last week and bring them home.

Akefia played about many things, but anything name brand he purchased for Ryou, he treated as well as he did for his younger brother.

His cell phone buzzed in the breast pocket of his blazer just as he reached his hallway locker. Ryou pressed the answer key without bothering to check the caller ID. It could've been only been two people calling him around this time anyway.

"Sorry, I'm sorry, I'm coming."

"_Where the fuck are you?"_ Akefia growled angrily through the receiver. _"I told you to be home at four. Its four damn thirty! Dinner's not made, the house is a wreck and I got places to be. Do you need me to come get you?"_

Ryou rolled his eyes, "If I wanted to be scolded, I could've stayed in Britain with mum and dad. I'm not a child, Akefia. You shouldn't be so cold to me."

"_I hope you're not talkin' back to me, brat. I'd hate to kick my own brother's ass because he decided to put some bass in his voice."_

"And I'd hate to leave my own brother starving since he refuses to show me an ounce of respect to."

The phone went silent for all of ten seconds before Akefia's gruff accent came through, "_Hey, that's abuse. You're not supposed to starve family."_

"You're not supposed to curse at them and make them feel lower than dirt either," Chuckled Ryou. "So, it looks like we're at a stalemate, brother."

A long, dry sigh filtered through, "_Are you at least on your way? I got patrol duty tonight and you know I can't leave without making sure you're in. Seto's got deals to run until Thursday so he can't get ya either. Are you sure you don't want me to send you a ride?"_

"I'm capable of walking, Akefia. I'll be fine. When you get back tonight, I'll have a plate fixed for you in the fridge."

"_What're you gonna make?"_

Ryou smiled, "Whatever you want."

"Ohhh, you shouldn't have offered that, baby brother. But since you offered, make some of those banger sausages with mash potatoes and gravy. Make some of that pudding too, like dad used to and don't skip out on the strawberries. I want that shit heavy."

"Anything else?"

"_Besides you gettin' your ass home? Nope, just hurry up!"_

_Click. _

That crazy wanker. Ryou sucked his teeth, replacing his phone back in his pocket. Akefia was worst then their father. Or rather, he was twice as protective as he'd been since they lost Bakura.

Oh Bakura. God, ten years still didn't seem long enough for Akefia and their father to forgive themselves for losing him. Every time Ryou thought of his dead twin, it felt as if he was stricken with a stomach virus. It'd happened when the pair were eight years old going to a friend's birthday party together. They'd been walking on the sidewalk, when a car came careening down the street and skidded off the asphalt and right into the King family. Ryou suffered a broken leg and cracked ribs. Akefia had a concussion for weeks, but Bakura? His injuries were too fatal.

The first few months had been terrible for Akefia and his father. It'd been especially difficult for Ryou to adjust. Having the other half of you literally taken from you? It felt like he'd his ribs were cracked in half and the light stolen from his dark. Coping took time, therapy and prayer, but in time, Ryou managed to overcome his depression. Ryou took his twin's loss as a loving experience to always remember.

"You red blooded assholes don't learn, do ya?"

A large, meaty palm hand slammed against the door of Ryou's locker, slamming it closed. Ryou gulped and backed away and right into a cage of arms. They'd come so suddenly, Ryou hadn't the chance to realize he was being stalked. He stopped struggling to get an eyeful of the three students surrounding him. With a heavy heart, his count stopped at four, including the one holding him captive. Ryou stopped moving all together because any further movements might trigger this pack of wolves, though, his chances of escaping unharmed looked blink.

"How many times must we go through this?" Ryou softly ranted. "I've told you all before, I'm not a part of the Red Eyes."

All of them were thick and burly, as if eating meat was the only part of their diet. This wasn't the first time Ryou encountered these guys. They considered themselves the self-proclaimed Street Guards of the school, but really they were a small time bunch trying to get a name for themselves amongst the already established gangs. Picking on anyone with the tiniest bit of association with the blue or red bloods had its rewarding moments to them. They'd never tried anything with the actual gang members.

The leader of this tiny foursome, made himself known by stepping forward and bending now to Ryou's eye level. This one's name was Taka Gosunkugi with chopped black hair, brown eyes as thin as string beans and a body sculpted from raw iron. He used his size more than his brain to intimidate his enemies and it never failed to serve him well.

"That ain't what we heard, snow white," Gosunkugi darkly said. "If you're datin' 'em and livin' with 'em, you're with 'em. Facts are facts."

"I can't help whom I'm related too as much as you can't change the way you look. As far as my personal life, that's no concern of yours. I will date whomever I chose, but that shouldn't play a factor in how you treat people. I've done nothing to warrant this animosity from any of you!"

A wild cackle bubbled from Gosunkugi's chest like a bass drum. "If you hang with 'em, you must be one. I don't any more reason than that to kick your ass." His laughter stirred the rest of his crew to laugh as well. Ryou's fingers opened and closed, trying to work some circulation into his arms. He opened his mouth to speak again but didn't get a word out.

A sharp punch to Ryou's jaw left him stunned stiff. Fireworks of every color exploded before his eyes as a numbing pain erupted on his face. His jaw begged for some kind of pressure, but his hands could only wring themselves helplessly. With eyes watering from the hot flash of pain, Ryou didn't have the chance to recover. Gosunkugi wasn't going to let him.

Ryou forced flat against his locker as a large hand palmed the back of his head and started jamming his face over and over into the ridged crevices. Ryou grunted and gasped for every time his face cut into the metal door. He wanted so desperately to fight back. He wanted to go for the gun hidden in his back pack, and finished the whole lot of them in one go.

What good would it serve then to kill them off? The school was prejudice towards him as it was, because of his relations with the Red Eye Spades. How many times had he gone to the front office and reported the abuse and nothing was done? Why was he refused protection? Because he happened to be in love with a gang member? Because his older brother just so happened to be one of the senior members?

Ryou pivoted on his foot, anger consuming him whole as he took the puncher by surprise and landed a crippling kick in his groin. It was just enough of a distraction to surprise the boys before Ryou took his chance to dip and run.

He got only ten feet before a Mack-truck tackle knocked him onto the ground. The immense pain to follow was uncanny. Powerful blow after powerful blow fell on his head, into his sides and on his back like an avalanche. Someone grabbed a handful of his hair and jerked so hard, his neck threatened to snap in too. He was pulled to his knees and from there the reign of terror continued.

A kick so strong lunged into his stomach that Ryou thought he'd died right then. No air came through his gapping mouth, nothing came through his nose.

He truly believed he had died when everything became lighter than hair and the grip in his hair slacked away completely. The lack of support left Ryou to fall to the floor, jolting him back to reality. No more hits came. The distant sounds of footsteps echoed in tiny peeps and pats from all around.

"That's not how we play the game, boys. We take turns," said a voice as powerful as God's.

Ryou felt his stomach cave in collapse in a bucket of ice water. This man was notorious for showing up out of nowhere as if summoned by the shadows. His dark eyes seemed to swallow the young men alive, but they particularly lingered on Ryou's brown eyes, swollen and face covered in red welts.

Yami tsk'ed his teeth in disgust. "Get up, Ryou," He commanded, not told, the boy on the floor.

Ryou wouldn't question an order. He stumbled to his feet, balance awkward and eyes unpitying to the foursome frozen in place like deer game nailed to the wall. His books that had been shattered all over were slowly gathered. He retrieved his notes and started limping toward the locker room.

When he reached Yami's side, Ryou's eyes softly looked over and connected with the clash of storm red.

"How did you know?"

"I saw the bruise last week," Yami reached in the waist band of his pants for his pistol. "Seto's never raised his hand to you and Akefia would kill himself before he touched you. So," he clicked this gun, "that only left me investigating it for myself."

Ryou's head swiveled from the gang leader and to the whimpering students, hair flying and following like a lion's mane. "You can't, you mustn't," He blabbered senselessly, words a vomit of fear. "It isn't fair."

"Did they play fair?" Yami said, unmoved, idly rubbing at his scarred cheek. A magazine was retrieved and locked inside the cartridge port. "Go home, Ryou. I'll take care of things here."

"Please, you mustn't kill them. It wasn't as bad as it looked."

"You can beg all you want, but either you let me take care of it now, or Slim and Thief will."

Ryou hesitated. "You won't tell them, will you?"

Yami spared the young man a hard look. "They'll know because either you'll tell them or I will."

Ryou's spirits dampened. "They'll be angry," He said weakly.

"They will be, but they have every right to be."

"I was nervous of what they'd do."

"You should've been more worried about how pissed I was gonna be," Yami said. "I don't let family of my family get hurt without retaliation. If there were people here trying to up-one my crew, you should've said something sooner."

"I didn't want to get involved."

Yami glanced back at Ryou with eyes the darkest Ryou had ever seen, in way that terrified him to silence. Maybe he'd gone a little far in saying that. If he was indirectly connected to the gang life, perhaps it should've been his responsibility to warn them or at least speak up of the abuse he'd been going through at the school.

"Get outta here, Ryou. That's the last time I'm going to warn you," Yami spoke in a tone that clearly implied he wouldn't repeat himself.

Ryou threw a final look at the four bruisers. The four pairs of eyes in front of him widened laced with other worldly fear. Then a couple of them closed his eyes, whimpered, and began some kind of prayer for their lives. It would probably be the final time Ryou saw them. He turned on his heel and took off down the hall without looking back and ignoring the sudden screams and roars ping ponging off the walls.

* * *

Yugi rubbed one fist over his eyes as he stood in the exit opening of the school breezeway, warring with the sun's late evening shine. His hair was damp and pulled in a thick ponytail, with one or two jumbo spikes refusing to cooperate. He watched absently as the last couple of players tore out of the parking lot, relieved of a long practice and out to do as they wanted. It took a lot of pride on his end, but he'd summoned the whole team into the locker to apologize for his nasty behavior on the field and promised to have better control over his temper.

He was lucky the team had taken to his attitude switch better then he'd expected. They called it a momentary lapse in sanity due to pussy withdrawals. Whatever they called it, he was glad for their forgiveness. Yugi convinced Tristan to let him walk home since it wasn't a far off stroll.

Yugi took a few steps towards the parking lot that had become vacant as a skeletal and vast as an oily desert. Crossing through the molten asphalt had him rethinking his decision on letting Tristan leave without him. Yugi glanced around to see if he'd missed any of his friends from leaving, but found he was the only soul left on the school property. He arched his shoulders and trudged onward.

When he reached the corner turn where the sidewalk met the school exit, a crimson Cadillac flanked his right and came to a stop, windows dark as a presidential tint. Music thudded the interior, quaking the windows the way a finger tapped an aquarium.

The windows dipped halfway down, letting the beastly stereo system encase half the block in _Drake's, Started Form the Bottom. _Cool air conditioning blasted Yugi's face as he dipped forward to see who the owner was.

His expression became a mixture of anxiety, dread and relief when Yami's face shun through the dark interior. Yugi straightened up, licking his lips, eyes darting from side to side. The scent of Purple Haze oozed from the car in misty wisps, clinging to the air.

The music quieted to a dull roar, "Where you headin'?" Yami's voiced, lightly thumping his cigarette in an ash tray.

Yugi blinked and stared, "Um, home."

"Get in, I'll drive you."

Yugi was left as dumbfounded as when he realized this was Yami he was talking too. "I, well," He licked his drying lips again. "I think I can manage. Thanks anyway."

The older man tapped his smoke out the window, "I wasn't asking." The passenger door opened and smoke poured from the floor and ceiling as thick and flowing as a waterfall.

Some of that old attitude started curling in his chest, but Yugi sobered as fast as it developed. He could say it was because he wasn't up for arguing but the ominous vibes seeping from the car were the real reason.

"Asking wouldn't kill you, would it?" Yugi grumbled, slipping inside the cool interior, the cool press of leather suction cupping to his sweaty skin. He pulled the seatbelt around and clasped his hands in his lap. It was dark as hell in this car. No amount of light could penetrate the sweep of black surrounding the windows and the cool air and soft hum of music put Yugi in the mindset of a torture chamber.

For a long while the car didn't move.

Yugi glanced over to see why and jumped when all he saw was darkness and the subtle electric lights illuminating Yami's eyes. That scathing glare could peel skin from bone. Why did he have so much perilous aura radiating off him? That wasn't fair!

"What?!" Yugi snapped with more edge in his voice then he intended. Yami simply continued to stare. Yugi sucked his teeth and gave his attention to the outside world because it was better than being stared at like the newest discovered animal. His body turned as far into the passenger door as he could crunch into in hopes of Yami getting the picture and just driving off, but apparently he was waiting for something to happen, be said or done.

Yugi looked at Yami again and wished he'd kept his eyes out the window.

Yami, slick as an eel covered in virgin oil, pulled a deep drag on his cig, withdrew it to produce a river of smoke and discarded it in the ash tray. His mouth curled back in a grin as lethal as a viper's hypnotic stare.

"I like that pissed off look on your face, it's cute."

Yugi owlishly blinked. "I'm sorry?"

Yami's chuckle reached new oceanic depths in Yugi's stomach, "I like that look too." Yugi gave pause, blinks coming in faster than a slideshow. He was grateful for the car's darkness. At least he could hide the blush racing across his cheeks and nose.

"What's got you, pissy anyway?"

Yugi felt like he couldn't even remember how the world turned and the sun set, let alone answer the question. A slow reminder started pulsing in his mind that Tristan was going to skin his ass raw if he found out he was back in cahoots with Yami after just saying an hour ago he wouldn't be.

"It's nothing," Yugi mumbled. "Could you just take me home, please? I wouldn't want to bore you with my issues anyway."

"Who said you'd bore me?"

Damn, that voice was too sexy for his own good. Why the hell wasn't it outlawed? "You said I bored the last time we talked." Yugi said behind his palm, staring out the window.

Yami shrugged, putting the car in drive, "I said boredom had me listening to you at the time. I never said your conversation was boring. But if that's what you took from it, you're free to think as you wish." Yami thumbed through the musical selection on his radio station before stopping on the old R&B station, allowing _Anita Baker's Sweet Love,_ to overwhelm the car in sultry music.

Yami lifted his eyebrow at Yugi's shocked expression.

"I wouldn't have taken you for an old school junkie," Yugi answered the unspoken question. "My brother loved this kind of music, especially Chaka Khan."

Yami snorted, "What 'cha know about old school?" he said while leafing through a stack of CDs in his overhead compartment.

"Plenty," Yugi snorted back. "You can thank my grandpa for that one. All he did was play R&B as we grew up."

Yami hummed, saying he was listening even while he was going through his CD collection.

Yugi knew he should have been more cautious of riding with Yami, but when the music came on; all weariness flew out the window. Some of Yami's habits, his disposition and composure reminded Yugi sometimes of the way Heba would act. Yugi's guard softened a little. Maybe, maybe it wouldn't be so bad to hang around Yami sometimes; as long as he wasn't involved in anything illegal.

_I look in your eyes and I can see  
We've loved so dangerously  
You're not trusting your heart to anyone  
You tell me you're gonna play it smart  
We're through before we start  
But I believe that we've only just begun_

_When it's this good, there's no saying no_  
_I want you so, I'm ready to go_

Yugi cracked a wicked smirk. "This one's my favorite."

Yami eased his arm behind Yugi's head rest. "You said your brother listened to this too, yeah?"

"It was all he listened too. He dabbled in rap here and there but his heart was always into soul music."

"Oh really? Tell me what else he was into."

For the majority of the short trip to Yugi's home, that was he did. Conversation went from talking about Heba's love of certain music to how amazing he was in playing baseball. The music was set at random to play through Chaka Khan's music, then more of Anita Baker, some of Luther Vandross and bits of Tupac. All his favorite foods, his attitude, the way he reacted to anything, everything was discussed until Yugi realized he and Yami had been sitting in the car for nearly two hours rambling back and forth—well, he talked and Yami listened—about a little of everything.

The sun had set some time ago, enveloping the already pitch black interior in an even darker world. _Life Goes On by Tupac, _hovered between Yugi and Yami for a brief moment. They were reclined in their chairs, staring at the peppering stars through the open roof top.

Yugi's sigh exhaled like a balloon released of helium, "I didn't mean to snap you earlier."

"My feelings weren't hurt," Yami returned casually.

"It still isn't right. I don't normally have an attitude. I think I was more frustrated than anything. You didn't deserve that."

Yami cracked grin, saying nothing.

"You should do that more often."

Yami's smile vanished. "Do what?" He found Yugi up on his elbows, smiling softly.

"Smile. You should smile more often. It looks good on your face."

Yami just arched a brow like he didn't have the slightest clue he'd been smiling and turned his head back to looking at the night sky.

"When I find a reason to, maybe I will." Yami answered after a minute.

Yugi raised himself to an upright position, folding his right leg under his left, tilting his head. "Had you ever had a reason to smile before?"

"Once," Yami said his voice almost . . . like it'd gone soft and sweet.

Yugi had to battle the urge down to question it further. Yami didn't leave an opening for that particular subject to be discussed. Yugi ignored the heavy weight called disappointment pressing on his chest and decided to pick a new topic.

"What were you doing at the school?"

"Handling business," Yami clipped.

Ok, that subject was off limits too. Yugi tugged at a loose spike hanging off his forehead and sighed. The easy going atmosphere depleted faster than a fog. "Guess I should get going."

Yami didn't respond.

Yeah, it was definitely time to go. Yugi opened the passenger door and put his feet on the gritty ground. He looked down at the carpeted patches of grass as if it were a new enemy of sorts. Should it end this way? _"_Damn." Yugi cursed, frowning at the familiar feeling of needing to right a wrong. Yugi dipped back inside the car, back turned to Yami. "If you're willing to learn about my life, can I at least learn some of yours?"

A sigh, long and hard came from behind but otherwise no verbal reply.

Yugi dared a peek over his shoulder. With his body laid parallel, eyes half-closed, bathed in the mercury streetlight his impeccably sculpted form, Yami looked . . . almost stunning. The gentle expression lurking beneath the surface of those ecstasy laden eyes stirred something in the Yugi pants.

That's when Yugi saw the scar, a long deep cut slashed along Yami's cheek. It was as red and angry looking as the color of the gang leader's eyes. Yugi stopped the reflex to reach out and touch it, keeping his hands glued to his lap. He wondered how Yami got that wound.

When Yami's next spoke it came as such a surprise, Yugi's stomach sunk through the ground, "I got a lot of demons you don't need to know about, Yugi. Some of them would probably tear your soul in half. I'm not about to drag another one down with me." He said it all and out of every word, only Yugi's name came off as if placing a tiara on top of a silky pillow.

Yugi turned around fully, and jumped.

Yami's hand was already coming forth silent as the wind. He gave a crooked smile, letting the tips of his long, slender fingers graze over the line of Yugi's jaw.

"Don't fuck around, trying to figure out about my life, Yugi. I swear you'll be more afraid of me then you are."

Yugi caught the gasp seeking escape from his lungs. His heart stammered before going into triple-time. He clenched and unclenched his jaw, trying to control his stupid urges. Yami's cool, callous hand, probably made rough from years of gripping a gun, was like a sweet oasis in the desert and Yugi found himself leaning his head into the gentle touch. _God, his touch was so gentle. How could this be the same man people feared?_

As soon as he'd started enjoying the caress, Yami withdrew his hand.

"Yami—"

"It's getting late. You need to go inside."

"Wait," Yugi said when the car revved to life.

"What's up?" Yami asked, pulling a new cigarette from somewhere in his glove compartment. He flipped out a light to light the edge of the cigar, putting it in his mouth.

Yugi watched Yami drag in a few puffs before speaking. "Can we see each other again, if that's alright?"

Silence fell between them again with the only faint sound of Yami puffing away on his cig. "I'll see." He flicked his wrist for Yugi to get out and took off down the dirt road.

Yugi gripped the straps of his book bag, and turned to go inside, ignoring the deadweight settling in his stomach.

**TBC: I think it's about time we stir up some things. **


	7. Unsuspecting Moments

**Author's Rant:** Thanks for reading everyone. Enjoy the chapter!

* * *

**Unsuspecting Moments**

* * *

Atem couldn't remember the last time he'd had a full night of sleep.

During the time he's been home, his mission has been about restoring order to the Blue Eyes clan. Seth held the fort for as long as he could manage but eventually it'd been time for Atem to return. It wasn't that Atem didn't believe in his cousin's ability to sustain Northern Domino's strength. No, that wasn't it at all. They'd traded command of the Blue Eye Aces since they were twelve and fourteen years old. By then, their fathers knew it was time they claimed the head of the family.

This time around, things weren't going as they should; as if a ripple in a placid pond were stirred by a mighty stone and left to die unnoticed. Atem had sensed the imbalance since he'd stepped foot in the International Domino Airport and rode through the city in the back of a tinted limousine, scoping out every inch of the city. It'd seemed poorly manicured, dirtied with deceit, and soiled with lies. That wasn't how Atem and surely, not how Yami ran things. They'd maintained, as far as the other knew, a woven set of rules that didn't leave room for deception. There was only blunt force, publicized activity and an _eye for an eye_ way of settling matters.

That's why when Atem had gotten word of a leak streaming information to the wrong people, Atem knew it didn't have anything to do with Yami. When Atem had heard about a leech sucking out the funds from seven of the six hundred and twenty five bank accounts, he knew it wasn't Yami. When word reached Atem of one of his soldiers, piping out the coordinates and scheduled meetings of his exports from the harbor, naturally he disregarded it being Yami.

None of the activities executed were Yami's style. When he did anything to cripple Atem's defenses, Yami wanted the Blue Eyes Leader to know he did it. The younger gang leader took pride in knowing if anything was done to break Atem, even an inch, he'd done it. That's why when Atem heard on the news about four high school students found hanging by their belts and filled with bullet holes near the police station that it'd been Yami's doing. Atem theorized it had something to do with someone either messing around with Yami's family or family of family or he was regulating order.

Atem was, for once, at home, located right in the center of Northern Domino and the highest level above the whole city. He wanted a Hawkeye's view of the entire terrain; as a king would desire to hover above his kingdom. Atem lived in the Eclipse Century Apartments, in the penthouse suite. Every single inch of the foyer, furniture, and the walls were colored a rich, vibrate royal blue. The carpet was plush, and so cushiony your toes could sink to the Styrofoam bedding. The ceiling was made with built-in skylights that gave off a warm gold glow in the mornings and switched to sultry silver by night.

The living room was a circular foyer set in a slight depression from the entry way. The step-down lead to the three velvet plush living room set, a five seat round couch curving to the edge of the dip, which had a matching two seat sofa and love seat. A diamond shaped glass table on stone legs sat in the center of the furniture. In front of the large couch was a ceiling-to-floor flat screen television embedded in the wall.

Where Atem was standing was the penthouse's ultimate advantage and well worth the money. It was a transparent, wrap around view of the entire city; windows panels as tall stretched to the ceiling and to the floor, making up nearly half of the suite. Skyscraper windows peppered their silver, gold and bronze lights on and off like Christmas decorations. Down below, the cars, street lights and buzz of activity gradually filtered up to his ears. A wrap around terrace opened up to a Latin styled patio with dark designed furnishing tucked in a corner under a wall shade and a mini bar used for those special occasions. Atem had every old school concoction stored in the wall fridge that could keep three clubs stocked for two weeks.

"Daddy?"

Atem started and snapped his gaze back to his daughter. He'd been spying out at the stretch of city for so long, he'd become drawn in and seduced by its nightly dress. _She wasn't a danger_, he reminded himself, because having to tame his killer instinct was a process he wished he could shut off completely when at home.

Five year old Kisara was standing in the mouth of the hallway leaning to the master bedroom, her bedroom and the two guest rooms, rubbing a small fist over her eye. She was dressed in a similar pajama set similar to Atem's; a black silk and white plaid bottoms with grey background. Her set was a light blue, with white plaid pants and a pink background. Being a Hassan had traditions. Every single child born into the family received the upmost care and received every sort of financial advantage. Kisara, especially needed the attention and tender care, because of the way her skin refused to gather sun and instead, rebelled it.

It was a terrible condition, being unable to color like her peers, but God, his daughter was beautiful. She wasn't a traditional Egyptian, not bearing the recognizable dark skin tone, slanted eyes and angular facial traits, like her family. Her eyes were the bluest of blue, a wonderful color Atem was proud to say originated from his side of the family. His mother's eyes had been like pools of tranquil ponds, undisturbed by the slightest ripple. Then there was the natural baby softness of her skin. Kisara's skin would never know a blemish as long as Atem protected her.

Atem smiled in the darkness overshadowing the foyer in leaps and bounds, a small spotlight of silver beaming on his daughter as if she'd just stepped on stage.

Then Kisara's sleepy face fixed into a weak frown, one that belonged to her father and had the makings of maturing to look like her mother. Atem cleared his throat and softly beckoned his daughter over, "Couldn't sleep, baby girl?"

Kisara shook her head, "No." She crept through the living room, using the outside lightning as a guide to reach her father. Atem held out his hand and hugged Kisara to his side when she reached him. Kisara lamely leaned against his thigh, leeching the warmth off his body.

"Daddy, when can I go back to school?" Kisara mumbled, looking up at him with big, trusting eyes, admiring him as one would a God.

Atem's hand cupped the back of her soft head, growing weighty. What could you say to your daughter when it was your fault she couldn't attend school safely? How did a father explain that he needed to wait until the heat died down before allowing his child to see the light of day? There was no right or wrong way of holding the truth from your children. There were red bloods flooding the streets out for revenge for their fallen comrades. It was amusing watching the countless red cars filter the streets on the lookout for anyone who gave off the tiniest blue blood vibe. But it wouldn't be funny seeing his daughter harmed.

Lying to Kisara has become almost instinctive when Atem was forced to answer a question she couldn't comprehend. He smiled tenderly as he leafed his fingers through her snowflake hair.

"When they're finished fixing it up, I'll take you back," he said. "Remember I said they have to make sure the school's prepped for beautiful girls like you."

She blinked. "The school doesn't have to be pretty for me. I don't care if it looks dirty."

"But _I care_, baby girl. I don't want daddy's angel wandering around in filth."

Kisara dropped her head and sighed. "But then . . . I can't play with Yugi, Daddy. He'll be mad at me for not coming to play."

Atem's eyes widened comically as he ruffled his daughter's hair. "I assure you, baby girl, Yugi will still want to play with you when you get back to school." If Atem had anything to say about it, Yugi would be around for a while and be tossed aside later.

Not only had the young man bewitched Kisara after one meet, but after a few talks and he'd captured Atem's attention too. Since Monday, Atem's mind dallied with images of Yugi's face. His innocence, the spunk he possessed and that wicked determined need to be in control, sent fire to Atem's groin.

_Damn, he loved that shit. _

Atem loved a fight in potential lovers. He absolutely relished in it. Submissive men and women did nothing to satisfy his lust. He wanted a struggle, he wanted an equal, and he wanted a full fledge battle mentally, physically and spiritually. It'd been months since he had the taste of a decent lover. His bedmates were always missing a certain attribute that never lead to a second encounter. Atem hoped the same wouldn't apply to Yugi.

Atem hadn't had ass that young in years.

"Daddy, when can I see Yugi again?"

A yank on his hand drew Atem back to the real world. He shook his head slightly and answered his daughter, "We'll get to see this weekend."

Kisara's eyes grew enormous and sparkled. "Really, daddy? Really? Are we gonna play together? Can he sleep over and play tea time with me?!" She excitedly ranted.

Atem chuckled along with his daughter's contagious mirth. "We'll see, love. We'll see."

"Oh no, daddy, I don't have a nice dress to wear. Yugi won't play with me if I don't look pretty!"

Atem outright laughed, deep voice bellowing like a saxophone, "We'll go shopping Friday with Seth to find you a nice dress and a fine pair of shoes."

Kisara was bouncing on her feet, growing more and more thrilled at the aspect of looking her best for her new friend. Atem gently scooped Kisara up into his arms, clasp her to his chest, and together, they stared out into the city life. "Before we do, love, you'll need to get some sleep."

Kisara yawned on cue, already resolved to it. "Sleep with you, Daddy?" she slurred, eyes growing heavy.

"Yeah, baby girl." Atem hiked her up on his chest, cast one long look at his territory and then backed away. He snapped his fingers and the lights dimmed to pitch black.

He'd make sure his daughter was tucked in and slumbering peacefully before he came back to watch his land. After all, when did a good king ever fall asleep over his kingdom?

He could sleep when he was dead.

* * *

Standing inside his blue marble, and pearl white checkered shower stall, Yami pressed his forehead against the hall of the transparent glass. Steam funneled through the roof opening, shrouding the entire bathroom in a mystical oasis. Hot water brindled his nude body in scorching waves. All of his hair was soaked to the scalp in heaps of dark auburn, slick black and blond.

"God," he groaned for the tenth time that night.

Yami hadn't been certain at first when he'd first saw Yugi, he just . . . he just hadn't been sure.

But now, remembering Yugi's expression in the car, those damning eyes of his and the way he responded . . . it was like a torturous memory bleeding in his mind like a knife wound. His head was fucked up more than ever now. He'd drunken his entire stock of Brandy, smoked two full Red Dawns and still, he was helplessly agitated by long buried images.

Yami shuddered, gnawing his bottom lip hard to fight against the sob stored in his throat. It was either the water or his own tears wetting his face and mucus dripping from his nostrils as he ran a hand over his face. His chest ached. His stomach felt hollowedand yet, full of this unimaginable pain. How could such agony exist? It was overwhelming.

Yami growl miserably, dropping to the balls of his knees, hands grappling at an empty support.

Yami turned and sat, clutching his stomach, and his face, absently watching the water drain through his fingers. Water slipped down his arms and seemed to caress the slight rise of his tattoos like a river. His abdominal section suddenly hitched, his chest tightened and before he knew it, Yami was yanking the shower door open and dumping his essence in the toilet.

He was a fucking wreck.

Yami slipped away, dragging a hand over his mouth and smacking away the sour taste. His mind refused to settle on a single thought process. But they all revolved around the same thing.

Yugi Muto.

Yugi Muto.

Yugi Muto.

Yami swallowed hard.

That last name should've been the first clue. Why hadn't he realized it sooner? How could he have been so blind? Yugi Muto and Heba Muto—"Ah!" Yami collapsed to the floor, squeezing his head as if the pressure alone could rid him of the heavy memories. Just thinking of Heba's face, his name, anything about _him _punctured holes in Yami's head. He'd tried, lord knows he has for years to put his twisted past behind him. Forgetting Heba ever lived had grown easier as time progressed . . . but no longer. Just when it was looking like he could pull the pieces of his life back together, Yugi's eyes were the monkey wrench to shatter the puzzle.

Yami slowly rose to his feet, cut the water and grabbed a towel to dry off. After drying off, he put on a black t-shirt, grey sweat pants, and a pair of black ankle socks. As soon as he flopped heavily on his bed, His hand searched pulled the drawer open and started to fish around for his grandfather's old silver Hohner harmonica.

Closing his eyes, Yami wet his lips, placed the edge of the instrument on his tongue and tested a few long whines. Some chords lazily hummed from the pipes and before long, the empty mansion was hazily filled with _Kenny G's, The Moment. _ The beginning hymn floated in stretched harps, the music tingling in Yami's chest. He loved this thing because of how it transported him from this world and into one within his mind. It was where he could reside without interruption.

The music began to flow on its own, putting Yami in a state of recovery. Bits and pieces of his broken self were mending together. He played the wondrous lullaby several times, sometimes adding in his own mixed measures until the music purred to silence. Rippling waves echoed off the walls like struck dongs and before long, Yami was in solitude, alone once more.

With his eyes still closed, Yami held the harmonica to his chest and willed sleep to come. His mind was nearly purged of Heba's memory. But now, it was free and full of another's, whose eyes seemed to awaken a newfound spark in his life. Yami wiped a hand across the back of his neck, his mind flitting from image to image. Heba, Yugi, Heba, Yugi, Yugi . . . now, just Yugi.

Yami sighed, at last opening his eyes to the plaster ceiling. Yugi was something else. Despite the dangers, he still wanted to see Yami again. Why? The gang leader hadn't a clue. Curiosity was a deadly habit to entertain. Yugi wasn't thinking about the consequences, that much was obvious. He was, perhaps, like any other foolish teenager with a wild thirst for the tall, dark and brooding types.

Yami had to smile at that and caught it as soon as it left his lips.

_Had you ever had a reason to smile before?_

Yami snorted and flipped on his side. He had a reason once and wasn't looking or another anytime soon. Heba had given him that gift—

Yami's cell phone suddenly started humming on the nightstand, illuminating the dark room in flickers of light blue. He didn't check the caller ID because all his calls were either for business, pleasure and business. Yami's thumb slide across the screen.

"Talk to me," his sluggish deep voice said into the receiver.

"Oi, boss we got a problem."

Since when didn't they? "Blue bloods?" Yami automatically concluded.

"No, not this time, chief," Valon's gravely said. "Slim just called askin' if I knew about a withdrawal from the east accounts. Somebody's stashin' a shit load of green."

Yami rolled on his side, a frown marring his brow. The entire gang had over two hundred and seventeen checking accounts and three hundred and twenty four saving accounts secured in the eastern and western banks of Domino, all of them under a dozen aliases.

"How much is missing?"

Some clicks tickled the other end of the phone before Valon replied, "About six percent, but the fuckin' weird thing is, it wasn't from one or two accounts. That's what's missing out of all of 'em. Each one is missin' six percent."

All? What the fuck? "The hell you mean _all?_" Yami bellowed, a rare show of him losing his cool.

"Don't shoot the messenger, chief!" Valon said. "It's what Seto told me. He's havin' the accountants run a scan but so far, we ain't got shit."

Silence reigned heavy and thick. Then Yami sighed, massaging the pressure between his eyes.

"Ya think it's the blue bloods?" Valon questioned with disdain.

No, hell no, it wasn't Atem's way of doing things. He didn't need to steal money. Why would he? If he'd wanted to harm Yami, all he had to do was damage property, hurt his gang members or leave clues to a future assault. Atem was a freak like that. He got pleasure out of fucking with people's heads. This wouldn't have been any fun for him.

No, something else was going on. Only Yami, his higher ranks and his senior members knew the account numbers, the names they went under and the pin numbers. Someone was leaking information.

"What're we gonna do, chief?"

Yami relaxed, tapping his chin. "We'll lay low for a minute. Supervise the west accounts and drain the east accounts into new ones."

"All of them?" Valon whined.

Yami paused and said lowly. "You have something better to do?"

Valon chuckled. "I had a couple Sheila's waitin' in my bed, but duty calls I guess."

Yami's body relaxed a little. "After you finish up there, take out 3 G's for yourself and take the next two weeks off." Valon had been pulling his weight non-stop for the past month. It was about time he unwind every now and again.

Valon whooped and cheered, "Don't mind if I do!" The phone hung up.

Yami tugged his chin, absentmindedly thinking about his next mode of action. Something was going on and sticking around here wasn't going to help clear his head.

He needed to find out what was going on.

* * *

**Insanity Billiard**

Thinking about last Saturday left a nasty taste in Joey's mouth. Not even swallowing Mr. Jason's famous Electric Ale could sweeten his taste buds. He'd been in a funk for three straight days after Yami had personally told him to take a two week vacation. Joey wasn't going to complain about the off time. Hell, he could use a break from all the hustling. It's just, now that he had nothing to occupy his mind, all he could think about was that pointy haired kid and the way he'd looked ready to die.

That wasn't an expression a guy easily forgot. Most folks', who could handle having a gun shoved up their chin, meant they'd been through some rough shit. It intrigued Joey to want to learn more about the handsome teenager. And whatever Joey wanted, he intended to get. He took Saturday's rejection as a lesson learned and would work on his next method of attraction the next time he laid eyes on the brunet.

Coming to Insanity Billiard with Akefia, hadn't been the best idea Joey could praise himself for. He was bored out of his mind and getting agitated because they were downstairs in the pub's billiard room shooting pool.

He'd gotten one shot and missed. Since then, Joey's been sitting on a stool, nursing a bottle of Bud Lite, while watching Akefia sink his third ball in the hole. The bronze skinned senior member was wearing a long red tee, some acid washed black Levi jeans and high top Air Jordan Retros—the newest edition to hit the stores since last month. Joey was sporting a V-neck Kelly green urban legend shirt with an onyx black cross chain on his neck, a print of a black dragon coiling from the rim of the shirt and up to the neckline. His jeans were dark blue and his shoes were a pair of black high top Converse.

"Ya fallin' asleep on me, J?" Akefia said, throwing a sassy smirk to the side when he made his fourth successful shot.

They were playing thirty bucks a damn ball too. At this rate, Joey was going to be walking home broke as hell. "Naw, I'm chillin'," Joey said casually, trying his hardest not to growl. "Keep talkin' shit, though. You won't last."

"Uh huh," Akefia hummed he sunk two more balls, he barked a wicked laugh when Joey cursed in the background.

Why the hell had he agreed to play Akefia's shark ass? The original plan had been to come down here and hustle everybody else out of their money but somehow it'd wound up being a match between J.R. and Thief.

Joey glanced around the room and suddenly remembered why they didn't have anyone else to trick. The whole bottom floor was empty. Every time a few commuters came to check out the competition, they ambled back up the wooden stairs when recognizing the notorious Red Eye seniors.

"Shit." Joey heard Akefia suck his teeth after finally, _finally _missing a hole. "Don't get happy, blondie. You'll fuck up in a minute," Akefia said, taking Joey's place in the corner.

"Not likely, sweetheart. Ya might as well get a pillow 'cause you ain't gonna move for the rest of the night."

Joey circled the table, taking a swig of his beer, scouring the purple pool table for a nice shot. There was a nice stripe and whole ball sitting lined beautifully by the right center pocket. Joey stopped on the opposite side, rubbed the end of his pool stick with a cube. He leaned away, eyeballed the pair carefully, and then lined up the shot.

His pool stick tapped the center hole. "Two and nine balls, side pocket." Bending at the waist, Joey positioned himself, aimed and took the shot.

The balls spun off into the hole as said. Akefia groaned from his place and ordered a beer from the bartender. He knew he was in for a long night because after that, Joey was striping the table of every ball until all that remained was the eight ball.

After the last one was perfectly executed, Joey grinned wolfishly, bouncing his eyebrows at Akefia's sunken expression. "Do the math, sweetheart. That's two hundred and forty bones."

Akefia snorted as he fished around his back pocket, "I shouldn't pay your cheatin' ass a damn thing," he accused sourly. He pulled out a neatly rolled wad and started leafing off twenties until the winning sum was counted.

Joey snatched his winnings, grinning as wide as the Grinch. "I went easy on ya."

"Whatever, let's play again, forty a ball!"

"Sold!" Hell yeah Joey would take that bet. He set his stick on the side. "Rack up the balls, I'ma go get something to eat. Ya want somethin'?"

"Yeah, gimme some loaded nachos with extra chili, a bowl of hot wings and a Root Beer."

Joey gave him a stupid look. "Greedy ass."

"Ya mother!"

Joey left, taking the stairs two at a time to the top level. The lower level bartender didn't carry the special brand liquor like the upstairs did. Up here, the modernized looking western atmosphere was vacant, save for three older men watching a soccer match on one of the flat screens. Joey walked up to the bar stand and slapped the counter, summoning a waitress.

One came with brunette hair cut in a symmetrical bob, bright blue eyes and a body with curves exploding in every direction. Joey racked his eyes over the way the cream white blouse hugged her C-cup chest and the black mini skirt wrapped around her long legs.

She was fine, no question, but Joey didn't toss salads. "Lemme get an order of ya loaded nachos with extra chili, a bowl of hot wings, and a mug of root beer. And," he glanced at the overhead menu, scanning the contents until finding what he wanted, "get me a plate of potato skins, go light on the onions, white queso dip and a pitcher of Sprite."

She jotted the order, asked if he wanted anything else and when he said no, she said it'd be fifteen minutes before the order was ready. Joey pulled up a stool and watched one of the basketball games. He'd ordered another beer and put it to his lips when he heard the front door open. He twisted in his chair to scope out the newcomers in case they might be some eager victims.

What he saw was something better.

_Son of a sexy—hmph_. Looks like he was going to get his second chance sooner than he thought.

Joey couldn't remember seeing so much _fine _wrapped in a single person. It was that Tristan boy, with the nice body and pretty face. The teen's muscles were snuggly coated in a smoke gray Calvin Klein lightweight nylon car coat, a black length V-neck cardigan and tan cream slim shirt, techy dress slacks. Tristan had his hair gelled up in his signature needle point, and a light scowl on his face, like it was a permanent expression.

Joey whistled, tucking his bottom lip between his teeth. The brunet's eyes connected with his. The impact of his stare was as heavy as a car collision. It was fierce, and Joey devoured it with plenty of gusto. His lips tilted in a saucy smirk, as he puckered his lips and blew a kiss.

Tristan grimaced like he saw a roach scurry past and approach the farthest end of the bar stand. Joey cheesed stupidly. He loved when they played hard to get. He hopped off his stool and swaggered over, cinnamon eyes alight with mischief.

Tristan didn't give him even the smallest glance.

Joey could respect that, especially since their last encounter wasn't a pleasant one. "We got off on da' wrong foot last time, so why don't we start over?" Joey offered his hand. "My name's Joseph."

Tristan stared ahead, or rather found the basketball game more interesting than Joey's olive branch.

Joey's lips bunched to the side as he withdrew his hand. "Ok, fair enough. I get yer still pissed. Hell, I would be too if some nut job flung a gun in my face."

Still no reply. That's cool. Joey could talk all night. He took the seat adjacent Tristan's, while thinking quietly to himself for something to say. "So, you uh, ya got any favorite hobbies?"

Silence.

Joey nodded. "I got hobbies. I play the guitar from time to time. I like to play cards, mostly spades. Sometimes I dabble in a lil' bit of chess and checkers. I like cars too." There wasn't the tiniest reaction or movement from the silent teenager.

Joey pouted, fingers drumming the counter top. Ok, if he was going to have to resort to this, shit why not? "If I change by name to Barney, will you love me?"

There was a reaction this time around. Tristan slowly, _very _slowly swirled around in his seat, eyebrows lifted. He blinked at Joey's puppy-wide eyes and that did it. He was laughing loud and as musical as a bass tuba. He wheezed, bending at the waist and slamming the counter with one hand, his forehead held in the other.

"You—ignorant dumbass!" he howled, still laughing. "Are you kiddin' me right now?" Tristan said in between laughter and shaking his head.

"What can a guy do ya know," Joey murmured softly, because he was so entranced. He couldn't help himself. He stared like a straight fool. Tristan's monotone laugh, sent lustful missiles to Joey's dick, one direct shot at a time. A sound that sexy should be banned from the country or stored in a museum. It was one of a kind, smoky and if Tristan wanted too, he could use it to get whatever the hell he wanted from Joey.

Tristan's chortle settled to light chuckles. His eyes, glistened from amusement, and turned to gradually narrowed and scowl, though a smirk continued to grace his kissable lips.

"What're you starin' at?" He roughly asked.

Joey swallowed forcefully, kicking the perverted thoughts from his mind. "Nothin'. You just got a sexy laugh. I like it."

Those chocolate brown eyes flashed. "Look, I already told ya—"

"I know, I know, you're not gay." Joey rolled his eyes. "Can't a guy give a compliment? Sheesh."

Maybe this was a dumb idea. Joey never put up this much effort to get ass before. If he wanted a battle he could try asking Yami for a fuck or something.

The waitress came in the nick of time to deliver Joey's oversized order. She ranted off the entire order exactly as Joey requested and crumbled up the receipt. "I'll have the drinks brought to you." She smiled.

"Thanks." Joey cast a wordless stare at Tristan before gathering the meals stored in a white plastic bag before slipping off the chair and starting for the downstairs. He was beginning to think he'd never hear Tristan's voice again until it stopped him dead in his tracks.

"Aren't you gonna pay for that?"

Joey looked over his shoulder. "No, 'cause I ain't gotta."

"Yes, you do."

A large hand clapped Joey's shoulder with loaded authority. It took Joey several hard breaths to calm down and not toss this boy on the floor. "I suggest ya move yer hand," he slowly warned.

Tristan's grasp tightened. "And I suggest you pay what's due before I make you."

Make him? _Ohhhh, this kid had a tombstone waiting for 'em somewhere. _Joey ducked his shoulder back and turned to stand in the brunet's face, fists strangling the plastic handles. "Go ahead and try. I'm right here."

"Don't ask for something you can't handle. Remember what happened last time?"

"I sure do. So remind me just who was it that had the gun in his face?"

"Right, because only a gang member would pull a bitch move like that!"

Joey's trigger finger twitched. He had three concealed weapons on his person: a switchblade, a pistol, and pack of razors. At any given moment, he could take this brat out with a single stroke. There was just this nagging aggravation in the back of his head refusing to leave him be. That, and the way those dark brown eyes kept piercing Joey like he was the cruelest man on earth.

Tristan's body propelled forward so suddenly, Joey's arm snuck out and caught the teen by the shoulders to balance him on his feet. The brunet was just as surprised as the blond when he turned around to cuss out the person who pushed him, only to discover it was the waitress from behind the counter.

"Are you trying to get me fired, Tristan?" the dark haired girl hissed.

Tristan gave her a blank expression. "Get you fired? What gives, Tea? I was trying to get your money!"

Tea glared at Tristan a full ten seconds. She looked at Joey and they softened. "I'm so sorry, Mr. Wheeler. He's a friend of mine. I called him here to give me a ride home. I didn't think he'd cause you trouble."

Tristan cocked an eyebrow, getting more confused. "Why're you kissin' up to this douche, T?"

Tea looked ready to slap him in the face. "This _douche _owns this business, Tristan. He bought out the building from Mr. Jason after he couldn't afford the rent."

Still not convinced, Tristan looked Joey up and down like he'd sprouted fungus. "How'd he convince Mr. Jason to sell out? I bet'cha he forced the old man's hand—"

"Tristan!" Tea said, outraged. "It was nothin' like that. Mr. Wheeler bought the building but Mr. Jason still runs it. If he hadn't helped when he had, Mr. Jason would've been put out."

"But . . . he only did it for his own selfish reasons," Tristan defended, feeling put off. "You can't honestly believe he's legit, Tea."

"Whatever he does outside of here isn't any of my business, just like it isn't yours. I only know what I've seen him do here." Tea turned her back to Tristan once more and bowed, repeatedly to the quiet Joey. "Please forgive him, sir. I swear he won't do it again."

Joey tossed her a bored look. "It's cool, T." He turned his head in Tristan's direction and thrust his hand forward. "I'm sure it was an honest misunderstandin', yeah?"

The hand was held out so close it left Tristan with little choice but to shake it. This would be the first time they willingly touched one another and when they did, a bone deep chill raced up Tristan's arm. This Joey guy had a very strong grip, but that was no surprise. He was a man used to toughening out any situation. Tristan's scowl relaxed into a small smile, but unlike the last time, Joey didn't return the gesture.

Joey's cinnamon brown eyes were murky as a glass of hot water. His grip constricted Tristan's hand a second longer letting go and going off downstairs.

Tea sucked her teeth and sighed, going back to finish cleaning behind the counters. Tristan tried to explain himself to her but she kept her back to him and excused herself to the kitchen to do more cleaning. Tristan stretched every excuse he could imagine until it was thin as saran wrap. Listening to his reasons, though, were starting to sound dumber and dumber.

His pride was trying to help redeem him of his ignorance because that was twice he'd misjudged Joey's personality.

Tea came out thirty minutes later, ready to head home. By then, Tristan had made up his mind to offer an apology. Tristan could imagine the scolding Yugi would give him for being so hard on a man he barely knew.

Insanity Billiard was drawing down to a close, the night creeping in sheets of humidity and fog. Tea finished locking up the building when Joey and a dark skinned man exited out of the side door. Joey merely glanced at Tristan, said something to his friend and the pair started off down the sidewalk.

"Ho-hold on a sec, Tea. I wanna do something."

Tea tugged at the straps on her trench coat. She peeked around Tristan's body and froze. "You aren't going to start another fight, are you?"

"No, just-just wait here, will ya?"

Tristan patted her shoulder assuredly and sprinted to catch up with Joey's speedy pace. It'd be nice to put aside this stupidity and move pass it. They didn't have to look at each other ever again, but at least this wouldn't be hovering over Tristan's head.

"Hey!" Tristan hollered to Joey's back. "Wait a sec!"

He asked and so, Joey did, waving for Akefia to continue without him. The blond took his time facing Tristan when he came up to stand by his side.

A very odd, almost warming bubble sensation started to flutter in Tristan's gut when those brown eyes locked with his. They weren't shimmering with anger, or annoyance. There was only a patient curiosity. Tristan hadn't expected to be given a chance so easily, considering how he'd treated him. Now that he had it, what could he say? _'I'm sorry'_ didn't seem sufficient.

"I'm listenin'," Joey calmly said, folding his arms. "Today, if ya don't mind."

Tristan nodded, "Yeah, so, um." He scratched behind his head, at a loss for words. He found looking at his shuffling his feet, not as overwhelming to gaze at as that intense gaze. Tristan inhaled and exhaled hard when he found the courage to speak. "My bad, about before. If I offended you, it wasn't intentionally malicious. It's not often you find a gang member doin' good."

Tristan words got tangled in his throat and not once had he had the balls to look in those possibly accusing eyes.

Joey's body edged closer, closing off any space that may have been left between them. Finally, Joey's head evened with Tristan's, tipping his chin up with a finger.

"The next time ya come at me like that again, there won't be any second or third chances. I'm gonna to hurt you like I don't know ya. You understand me?" Joey accented voice said, cold and clear. "Do You understand me?" He repeated a slower after a long pause and no reply.

And Tristan couldn't be blamed for that. This man's presence was producing predatory vibes. Tristan knew without a doubt, just as before, if Joey really wanted to hurt him, he could do it without blinking. And yet he hadn't. Tristan's senses seemed to kick into overdrive, suddenly noticing the smallest traits and details about Joey.

The blond, in his own street greasy way, was handsome. He was tall and partially slim with a healthy bulk of muscle clearly visible under his clothes. His thick, dark gold hair was combed in a messy disarray that suited him, and hung pass his eyebrows, hiding his biscuit brown eyes; the same dark eyes stripping Tristan down bit by bit with a simple glare.

"Yeah," Tristan murmured. "Yeah, I got ya."

It was a long while of Joey's eyes skating over Tristan's face as if searching. Soon Joey's hand, finger extended and traced the pointy angle of Tristan's jaw. Tristan sucked in and stopped breathing for as long as the finger stayed touching him.

"Ya know," Joey started, dropping his hand. "I . . . um."

"What?" Tristan said, mentally cursing himself for sounding breathless.

Joey moved closer, thought about it, then shook his head. "Nothin'. I'll catch ya later, kid." He flung a weak wave over his shoulder, pivoted on his heel and left.

Tristan stared after Joey's retreating back, a very slow smirk tilting the corner of his lips up. That hadn't gone at all how he'd expected. But Tristan was secretly glad it had happened. Joey wasn't such a bad guy after all.

* * *

This week had flown by so quickly, Yugi realized as he forged through his closet for the perfect outfit. He felt like he was preparing himself for a regular date when this was just a casual outing with a bossy father and his lovable daughter. Yugi had a terry towel wrapped around his waist. His was hair fuzzy and damp from a shower and the scent of Irish spring body wash floating off his body.

So far he had two full formal/casual outfits laid out for inspection. The first one was a pair khaki dress slacks with a red short-sleeve button up top, a black three button vest, dark tan Timberland boots and an onyx and platinum rosary necklace. The second one was a smoke grey Ralph Lauren V-neck sweater, a royal blue necktie, a white dress shirt, dark blue jeans and his black Converse shoes. He agonizingly debated over his decision for minutes, pacing back and forth. He knew this was tough, but he was also thinking about how he was going to convince his grandfather to let him go.

Hell, it would serve Atem right to meet Solomon Muto and be told face to face that his grandson was still grounded. Yugi glanced over his shoulder at the digital clock on his nightstand. It read 6:57 p.m. Atem said to be ready by seven, so. . .

"Whatever," Yugi grumbled. He picked the first outfit and quickly dunned it on, neatly stuffing his shirt in, buckling his belt ad tying his shoes. As for his hair, Yugi allowed it to air dry the rest of the way and combed it all down, pinching his banes so they framed his face. After spraying on some Axe, Yugi headed out of his room, fully expecting to be told to head back to his room.

When he walked downstairs into the living room, Yugi immediately locked up. His grandfather was leaning across the counter, carrying a conversation with a man who seemed capable of always stealing Yugi's breath away.

Atem was impeccably dressed in an Alfredo tux with a matching metallic bronze vest and tie, a white button up dress shirt, gold cuff links and leather dress shoes. His hair was combed and separated in its signature five spikes, and his dark blond banes flared across his forehead. Seeing Atem again should've put Yugi on the defensive but it clearly wasn't the case.

Jesus, if Atem didn't look like a man who defined sexy. He literally sweated the word from his pores.

Atem had his hands in his pockets, head cocked to the side, fully engaged with a cool conversation with Solomon. For the briefest moment, his autumn cool eyes flickered in Yugi's direction. It happened too fast for his grandfather to notice and much too slow for Yugi to feel like he'd just been transported through a furnace. Yugi swallowed the saliva in his mouth, and loudly cleared his throat to announce his presence.

Now Atem openly gazed up at Yugi's face and had no excuse to look away. Yugi's stomach performed gymnastics and his heart pitty patted in his rib cage, as he was left frozen in place. Their eyes were locked until Yugi averted his gaze to his grandfather.

"Yugi, you never said you were a friend of Atem Hassan."

Yugi paused at the bottom stair, confused. "You know each other?"

"Of course, I'm surprised you didn't know," Solomon happily said. "He says he's an old friend of Heba's."

"He's—he's _what?_!"

Atem cockily grinned. "I hadn't known my Heba and your Heba were one in the same. Imagine my surprise when I discovered you and him were related. Me and your brother," Atem softly chuckled. "We go _way_ back."

Yugi was baffled and incredibly cautious now. Something didn't seem right. Yugi would've remembered seeing Atem when he was a child. . .

"YUGI!"

Yugi jumped at the sudden shriek and looked down to find a bubbly child running toward. Kisara stopped in front of him, looking up with large fascinated blue eyes. She was wearing a sleeveless white and pink flora print dress with a rose colored sash tied around her waist and a rose headband pushing back all of her fine white hair. On her feet were polished magenta baby doll shoes, both with rose ribbons.

"I'm so happy to see you!" the girl exclaimed happily and then stretched out her arms commandingly. "Pick me up!"

Yugi did, and grunted a little as he settled the girl into a hug. She was heavier than she looked, especially for someone who looked as frail as a snowflake. Knowing Atem, Yugi had no doubt she was well fed and not allowed to do a lot of physical activities.

The child snuggled against his chest, twitched her rosebud lips, and grasped her fingers in his shirt. "I missed you, friend."

Yugi smiled softly and tenderly stroked her amazingly fine white hair with his fingertips. "I missed you too." He took a deep sniff of her fresh scent and sighed. She was a very sweet girl. How on earth did she wind up with a father so impossible to deal with?

"I suppose we should be off," Atem announced, he held out his hand to shake Solomon's. "It was good talking to you, Solomon, but we should go if I'm gonna have Yugi back by curfew."

"No problem, no problem at all," Solomon waved off.

Yugi looked between the two. "It's alright, Grandpa?"

Solomon's face tenderly relaxed. "In this case, my boy, I'll make an exception. I had no idea Heba had any friends, so why not?"

"If you're sure." Yugi guessed that was a good way of putting it. "OK, we'll be back in a while."

Kisara refused to leave his arms when they left the game shop. The sky was dimmed and newly lit from the moon's soft silver glow. Atem's car, a dazzling onyx black 2013 Malibu was parked off in the shadows, camouflaged into the scenery.

A warm hand came to settle in the middle of Yugi's back and pressed. "You look exquisite." Atem's mouth was dipped low, so that his lips framed the entire shell of Yugi's ear, forcing the tremors to rake his skeleton like a plucked violin string.

Yugi congratulated himself for not swaying in place. "You don't look so bad yourself." The car revved to life when Atem pressed a button. Kisara was buckled into the back seat after promising she'd get to talk to Yugi some more. Yugi settled himself inside the cool interior, unable to resist running his palm along the smoothly groomed suave material. The interior lights reflected blue and white off their faces and the hum of _Take You Out, by Luther Vandross. _The car was put in drive and together, the threesome journeyed off into Domino City.

"You've got some explaining to do," Yugi mumbled for Atem's ears. "I expect answers."

"And we'll see if you deserve to know 'em," Atem said.

* * *

**Shay la Belle**

Shay la Belle was well reputed for its ability to serve multi-cultural dishes.

The building was two stories tall and colored a rich crème and eggshell shade. Colossal pillars flanked the entrance way, and dark grey marble stairs lead up to the large cherry wood door. There were only ten cars in the entire parking lot when they arrived. It was the strangest thing to find one of the most prestigious restaurants in the whole city would be so . . . so scarce of customers. Yugi picked Kisara up from the back seat and settled her on his hip as Atem escorted them there. They walked in and stood at the mouth of the restaurant, waiting for the host to fetch them.

It wasn't a long wait at all. A tall man, thin as a broom came forth and ushered them in.

The place was breathtakingly beautiful. Intricate colored tiles of white, silver, and platinum ringlet crystals blossomed into whirlwind patterns, raining from the ceiling. It created an illusion appearance of diamonds in an eternal descent. The interior design was a finely woven tapestry like something from the Victoria era of the 1800s. Everything, the tables, the plush carpet, the chairs, table clothes, flowery decorations, were all white. The soft shine and perfectly groomed interior shun with an unseen light. A wrap around stairwell lead to a small around portion that curved and floated above the second floor, visible for everyone to see from above and below.

Yugi felt like a child wandering alone in an enchanted castle. They were guided up the stairs to a single table set for three. The chairs were made of the gentlest cushion, so thick, Yugi sunk down and bounced. As beautiful as the décor was, Yugi found it stunning that there wasn't a single person here to enjoy the theme as much as he was. Only the associates, dressed in black tuxedos resided inside.

Kisara was helped into a booster seat and given a box of crayons and a coloring book to keep her entertained. Two large menus were placed in front of them.

Yugi grasped his menu, face swiveling from side to side, wondering when more customers would arrive. Perhaps they'd arrived earlier than the others. Some fancy restaurants didn't open until late in the evening anyway.

"I've had the place reserved," Atem said out of the blue. Yugi blinked at him, caught in the act. "Your face is easy to read." Atem continued when Yugi's eyes widened in question.

"The entire restaurant?"

"Yes, we're here to learn about one another." Atem snapped the menu shut and placed it to the side. "I don't want any interruptions. This is a special evening for the three of us."

The waiter returned to take their orders.

"We'll have a pitcher of sweet tea, and a bottle of red wine," Atem said. "We'll start with the Ful Medames with buttered bread buns as an appetizer."

"Very good sir." The waiter jotted the order down on his notepad. "And for dinner?"

"I'll have the baked seasoned salmon with lemon, steamed broccoli and squash, and fried red potatoes," Atem ranted off. "And she'll have a small dish of macaroni and cheese, buttered corn, six chicken nuggets and have her ketchup placed on the side."

"Yes sir and what for your young friend?"

"He'll have—"

"Whatever I order for myself, thanks," Yugi interrupted smoothly, drawing a shocked expression from the waiter and a dark one from Atem, which he blatantly ignored. "I want the ten ounce sirloin, the mashed potatoes with lite garlic, and buttered Brussels sprouts mixed with bacon." Yugi closed the menu and held it out for the waiter to take.

The waiter just looked at the stretched out menu like it glowed of fire. His eyes nervously glanced at Atem, for some reason and stayed trained there. Heat flustered from the pit of Atem's eyes like the rage of a volcanic explosion. Yugi blinked, unsure he'd just witnessed a demonic possession or if this man was really looking at him with a murderous expression.

"It's fine, Roberto," Atem coolly said. The waiter's body visibly deflated with relief and bowed before taking the menus and leaving.

Tension hugged the table for a long moment. Yugi's eyes averted to the side to stare out a window, rather than to be penetrated with the deadly glare he felt was burning a hole in his face. The silence was so deafly, even Kisara noticed the sudden disturbance and stopped coloring. She glanced at her father and gasped.

"Daddy!" she scolded, dropping her crayon. "You're making the Halloween face again."

"Kisara," Atem deeply begun. "Color your pictures, baby. Daddy's gonna have a little talk with Yugi."

Atem moistened his lips and interlocked his fingers under his chin, gazing sharply at the young man across from him. Yugi's face was creased in a tight frown, his bottom lip poked out and if it weren't for how cute he looked, Atem would've been sent the brat in off with half a face. Those dark purple eyes were on fire.

"Young buck," Atem started coldly, "don't you _ever,_ for as long as you _breathe_, undermine me in public again."

Yugi braced himself before the shocking impact of those words could make him react. He held his head high and turned to look Atem square in the eye. "And for as long as we know each other, don't you dare treat me like I don't have a mouth. I'm fed up with how you've forced yourself into my life. You act like it's perfectly fine to rule people's lives and throw commands. I'm up to here," Yugi raised his hand to eye level, "with your bossy attitude. I've nearly reached the point of not giving a damn what you do, or whatever life you live. I won't let you won't treat me poorly. I won't allow it."

Atem narrowed his eyes. "You'd be wise to watch your tongue before its cut out, young buck. I say what goes, because I will it. If I want it, I will take it. Just as I wanted you to come here with me, it wasn't a request. You are here now because I want you to be. Just as the rest of this evening goes on, you'll sit here, enjoy this meal and we'll chat about me being the T.O.G. of the Blue Eye Aces and you, being a humble high school student."

_The T.O.G. of what?_

Yugi reeled, and nearly dropped a hand to grip the side of his chair. His stomach, however continued to sink through his feet and through the floor and somewhere deep in a frozen hell. Yugi shook himself, the way a dog would of water and wrapped his arms around his middle. His stomach churned, sickly and when he glanced up to see Atem's face, hoping for signs that he was merely joking, Yugi wasn't so lucky.

It made him feel worst. Yugi took a deep breath, calming his instinctive desire to lash out with boiled anger, but reframed out of common sense and the sake of a child.

"That's why you asked if I was associated with any gangs when we met, wasn't it?" Yugi dryly whispered, licking his lips. "I can't believe this."

The Merlot red wine and sweet tea were brought to the table and served in sparkling glasses and Kisara's in a plastic cup.

Atem had been right. Yugi should be afraid of him and very much so. Yugi had heard tales as twisted and diabolical as Yami's, some more gruesome and twice as tortuous. The only thing here was, hardly anyone knew who the Blue Eyes leader was. No one knew what he looked like, whether he was male or female or his race. They just knew he existed and wasn't someone to trifle with.

And here Yugi was seeing the legendary man in the flesh as a devilishly handsome deviant.

Atem sipped from his wine glass, eyes never leaving Yugi's delirious expression. "Now that you know, what does this mean for us?"

"There isn't an us. I can't think of there ever being an _us_," Yugi rambled. "Christ, why would you put me in this situation? Why didn't you tell me who you were before?"

"I had to be careful. You didn't leave me a lot of options, you realize; being that you were a resident of the Red Eye Territory, I needed time to observe you and see if you weren't going to be a liability."

"Don't talk about me like I'm an insurance claim! I told you from the start what I was and who I was. I held nothing back from you!"

"That was your mistake, not mine. I never asked you to dump your entire life story on me. Besides, it wasn't only my safety I had to be concerned over." Atem reached out his hand and cupped it on top of Kisara's head, gently combing through her hair. "However, if you want to know a secret as deep as your life, then I have no problem eventually telling you. It'd be a even trade."

Yugi leaned back in his chair, ignoring the forlorn twitch in his chest. This was dangerous, no matter how calm and decent Atem was acting. Tristan had warned him messing around with older men would get him into trouble. Yugi never realized it'd be up to this magnitude.

He folded his arms on the table top. "Alright," he said. "Fair enough, but I wanna know how you know my brother."

"That would be two secrets. I'll only give you the first, because it's not my place to discuss the second."

"It concerns my brother," Yugi hissed. "I have every right to know!"

Atem's hand fell from his daughter's head so he could have everything part of his body facing Yugi. "You've raised your voice one too many times for my tastes, young buck. Just what the fuck gives you the gull to talk to me like that?"

"Either tell me or take me home!" Yugi said, totally disregarding the fact that he was talking to a man with a rap sheet as thick as a dictionary. His entire body was shaking. He was beyond angry and just through. Here was a chance to discover an unknown piece of Heba, just a little bit of something to renew his memory and Atem wouldn't tell him.

Atem's gaze electrified several shades and twinkled with a hint of amusement. "You're a cute lil' thing when you're all mad. Has anyone ever told you that?"

The statement Yugi had prepared in his mind vanished without a trace when comprehension melted in. "Huh?"

"I said you're cute. You get all huffy and shit, like a poodle trying to be a pit bull." Atem winked over the rim of his wine flute as he took another sip.

All of Yugi's previous anger left him in a big swoosh. That was twice he'd been called cute; first by Yami and now Atem. Yugi couldn't even remember why he'd gotten upset or what he'd been mad about. Only Atem's crooked smirk and sexy wink flew around, ping ponging off the walls of Yugi's brain.

"We'll talk about that stuff later. I have a proportion to offer you." Atem's crooked smile widened as reached his hand out, letting the tips of his slender fingers rub and tease the top of Yugi's knuckles.

"Um, what is it?"

Atem's fingers grazed the creases in Yugi's flat palm, drawing his tips along the ridges so soft it didn't feel like they were touching Yugi at all.

"A little compensation. For my secrets, I'll need you to help me handle a small problem. A sort of an itch, if you would."

"An itch?"

"Yes." Atem leaned in closer. "You see, I've always had my mind focused purely on my business, my family and my money. But lately, a certain someone's been occupying my mind with his pretty face. I need you to scratch this itch."

Was he . . . was he asking Yugi too. . . Yugi frowned, and pulled his hand away. "What are you asking me?" He decided to be blunt because playing too stupid would probably lead to a stupid answer.

"Let me fuck you."

Yugi blinked. He blinked again and looked at Kisara to be sure she wasn't paying attention and for extra measure, checked around to be sure no one else was around to hear how Atem so bluntly said he wanted to fuck.

Yugi cleared his throat as a glowing blush rose from his shirt and to his face. "I don't think so."

"Why not?"

"You don't know me and I'm not for casual, um, fucks." Yugi took a sip of his sweet tea to wash away the filthy ideas running through his head. His teenage hormones didn't need an opportunity like this thrown at him so willy nilly.

Atem shrugged. "I'm grown, young buck. I don't have time to court, wait and then fuck. You're a healthy young man and I'm in my sexual prime. It's no secret we're attracted to each other. I assuredly think you're sexy and I know you want me." Another wink was thrown.

Yugi choked on his drink_. Damn, he was so forward_. "Atem, I . . . I. . ." Yugi was stuck and at a total loss for words.

"Why shouldn't we?"

"Because it isn't right."

Atem barked a short laugh. "In who's rule book? Come on, Yugi. What isn't right about two men giving into their needs with someone who's willing to give it to you? You don't even have to do it for free."

"I'm not some cheap hoe—"

"Of course not," Atem coolly interrupted. "You'll be my special kind of lover. I want someone who enjoys battling me. I love that about you. You give me a reason to stay on my toes and I'd love to see that fire spawned over my sheets."

"I, Atem, we can't," Yugi stuttered, shaking his head. "You have a child. What would your gang think? How could you even. . . God, just no."

Atem dramatically sighed. "Yugi, Yugi, Yugi, why in the hell should I care what my gang thinks? It's my gang. _Mine._ If I decided to go fuck a fire hydrant, they'd keep walking."

Yugi laughed, sweetness pouring from his lips because the very idea of the big bag Blue Eyes leader humping a fire hydrant was outrageous.

But then again, so was talking to him face to face and learning he knew a part of your brother's life that you didn't. That made Yugi sober up right away. He'd had casual sex before. When he said it wasn't right, it was just strange. Yugi still barely knew much about Atem and it's only been two weeks. It seemed to be happening so fast.

"Will you give me a chance to think about it?" Yugi requested.

Atem nodded. "If that is what you wish."

"It is and next time, let's get everything out in the open, OK?"

"Will there be a next time?"

Silence, then Yugi smirked. "Yeah . . . maybe, hell I don't know. We'll see."

"We shall."

The waiter chose the perfect moment to bring out everyone's meals. They ate in pleasant company, sometimes Yugi catching Atem's eyes watching him and Kisara towards the end of the dinner, dominating the conversation. She talked about school, her favorite colors, what games her and Yugi could play and everything.

Throughout the rest of the night, Yugi hadn't noticed how comfortable he'd gotten with the family. As if they weren't blue bloods at all.

It was on the drive back home when it dawned on him, that he was messing around with not only Atem but Yami as well.

At this rate, Yugi was going to get himself killed. . .

* * *

It was a ridiculous idea to come out here in the middle of the night, but Yami needed to see him. Yugi was his only connection now and his only piece of Heba remaining on this earth. If Yami could learn a little more, than this drugging sensation would vanish and he could go about his merry way.

Yami was dressed in a red wife beater, a sleeveless gray hoodie and matching gray sweat pants with low top Forces. He'd decided on a whim to speak to Yugi, just for a moment to learn a little of Heba's life; just the pieces Yami hadn't known Heba had kept from him. They'd been so close to each other back then; he couldn't understand why Heba would keep this part of his life a secret.

Yami gritted his head, and ran a tired hand through his messy locks. Yami kept telling himself it was stupid of him to waste his time like this. He had no business being parked outside the Kame Shop in the middle of the fucking night. Yugi was probably out with his friends or inside sleeping.

Wisps of red dawn drifted off the end of Yami's blunt as he thumbed through his music selection and stopped when Chaka Khan's music started giving him some old familiar vibes. His dark eyes half way closed to the effects of his smoke and the music roaming freely in his car.

Two bright headlights cast through the interior of his car. Yami sat up and turned off his car. That was probably Yugi with one of his friends. Yami put his hand on the door handle, feeling the pinch of a grin growing on his face. Yeah, he was fighting to admit it but seeing those big purple eyes did something scary to his gut and he was starting to like the way it tickled.

When the car pulled to a stop ahead of him, instead of seeing Yugi come out, Yami saw another face; the face of someone that set his blood boiling.

_What the fuck? Atem? What the hell was he doing here?_

Yami's hand patted around until landing on his glock. He started to leave his vehicle, assuming Atem was discreetly trying to push into his land. It didn't seem that way at all, when Yugi came out grinning like he'd found candy land. What the hell was going on? Yugi said he wasn't into this gang shit. So why was he hanging around with Atem—

Yami knew the instant his sanity exploded when he saw Atem walk Yugi to the front door and before the teen could enter, he was pulled into a savage kiss.

With his heart straining to beat out of his chest and his teeth grinding hard enough to crack, Yami kicked his door open and stepped out, holding his gun. So that's how Yugi was playing it then. It became rapidly clear what Yugi was up too. He was into that dangerous shit. That's fine. Yami would give it to him.

The apple didn't fall too far from the tree it seemed.

_Nothing but a fucking hoe! _

Yami took aim and pulled the trigger.


	8. Insanity

**Author's Rant:** Wow, I think I was called a bitch about 3-4 times lol. And to everyone who made guesses about the circumstances of Heba's death, you're all lukewarm to cool. Enjoy!

**Warning:** Blood, gun violence.

* * *

**Insanity**

* * *

"She's asleep?"

Yugi settled back in his seat and looked forward to face the sweeping colors of mercury blue, amber gold and neon street lights, bypassing the tinted windows. "Yeah, but I think she's fighting it," he answered in a tone he hoped sounded like he'd revived his earlier jubilee, but knew, since Atem's profile refused to drop his frown, that it wasn't so. Yugi had been—yes, he knew very well he wasn't keeping good company—very lock jawed and timid when invited into conversation.

Several times, Atem purposely missed turns that would take them instantly to Yugi's address, and voiced questions that left no room for close-ended responses. Yugi was able to beat at his game him with single sentence replies and nods and eventually, resolved himself or the tour of the city's colorful frolicking. It would reach midnight soon, which Yugi secretly prayed for and counted out of the corner of his eye as he studied the digital clock illuminated like a spotlight under the ocean.

It was approaching fifteen minutes of uninterrupted silence and in the next ten minutes, Atem would near a corner turn impossible to ignore. Atem's fingers gripped the leather cover on his steering wheel. His was mind spit between simply asking the teen what was wrong or continuing to drive until Yugi spoke without being forced into it. From what Atem recalled, the evening had gone splendidly. They dined until the very last hour and loitered in the parking lot a tad longer with idle chit chat.

Between then and now, Yugi's whole demeanor alternated from mouthy and engaging to a total mute. Atem, at first, had accepted the possibility that Yugi was probably tired. Just because Atem could survive on a night owl's routine, didn't mean Yugi could do the same. However, Atem knew Yugi's so called fatigue was bullshit because he held a somewhat animated conversation with Kisara until she fell asleep.

Atem bit his lip when the corner street matching the GPS's route drew closer. He took the turn this time and a sigh pulled from his mouth as if yanked through. "You're gonna make me ask, aren't you?"

Yugi gave a bored glance out of his peripheral, "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Yes you do."

"No, I don't."

"Don't play stupid."

"Don't play dumb."

"Jesus," Atem painstakingly groaned. "You have more mood swings then a bitch in heat. No, I stand corrected. A bitch has a liable excuse. You? You're just being salty. Tell me what's wrong?"

"Nothing is wrong. You're being paranoid."

"Am I?"

"Yeah, you are."

"Alright." Atem's car paused right at the dirt road entrance leading to Yugi's residence. The car was placed in park, engine subtly purring and the lights, both inside and out, were dimmed. Atem's arm extended and curled around the back of Yugi's headrest. With his other hand, he reached for Yugi's jaw and turned the boy's face to face him, keeping his thumb and index fingers pinched on Yugi's chin. "We'll sit here all night until you tell me what's going on."

Yugi frowned, "You promised my grandpa you'd have me back by curfew. I thought you were a man of your word."

"I am, but I'm only human. Is it my fault _certain_ people kept me from maintaining my promises?" Atem shrugged. "As you know, I've got nothing, but time. All you have to do is answer me and we can have you home in no time."

"You can't force me to talk."

"Oh? You wanna test that theory?"

And there, Yugi was held aggravatingly confined to the emotion, he'd grown to identify in Atem's eyes after such a story time together. An ominous, almost compelling need to flee roared to the front of Yugi's mind and like the beast demanding to be released, it was tamed back to a whimpering coward to the back of his mind. Chills spiraled up and down Yugi's spine because no one should be able to have that amount of power. Yugi's purple gaze darted in muted apprehension at the icy amusement in the Atem's expression; something else that has become an accustomed gesture on Yugi's end, being unable to speak when those eyes were focused solely on him.

Atem's eye color morphed into a dark burgundy, flooded with a diadem-like radiance. Was that what the Blue Eye Aces saw whenever Atem gave his orders, or thrust about in his noble presence? Or was it a unique gesture reserved for only taming Yugi?

Yugi knew it'd worked whatever the case because a minute later, he was pouring out like a broken faucet. "Why should I be afraid of you?" he asked in a whisper. "Do you want me to save you the trouble of working at it?"

"Hardly the case," Atem answered on point as if anticipating that very question. "The endeavor was already done when I honored you with the truth of who I am. I say you should be afraid so you'll be prepared for what's in store when dealing with me. I'm no saint, this I've told you already. I murder, I kill, I destroy lives, and I spill blood and will do so without regret."

"How can you say that so easily?"

"What is the harm in voicing my actions? What kind of leader would I be if I couldn't speak of my sins aloud?" Atem said. "Knowing this much about me, you still got in the car with me. You could've called one of your friends to pick you up from the restaurant. To be frank, I don't think you're scared of me enough."

Yugi blinked. "I am, I think. It's just . . . I feel like I'm caught in this web and no matter how much I struggle to get free, I'm only entangling myself more. And you're the spider that led me into this, Atem. Should I be worried when the spider comes for me . . . that he'll fool me into a false sense of security or openly eat me alive?"

Atem blinked slowly, dipping his head at a leisure pace that left Yugi plenty of opportunity to dodge backwards; if the hand on his chin gave him that chance anyway.

"If you really wanted to flee, you would have. I don't suspect you're willing to do so now. There's too much allure in your eyes."

"You baited me with information about my brother."

"You're free to forget and move on, if you wish. There's nothing binding you. The web is not fully fastened. If I am the spider, as you say, all I've done is dangle the bait before you. You're smart enough to know whether it's worth the bite."

Yugi had thought he was an expert at keeping an eye on his surroundings but he knew differently when between now and sometime when Atem had been talking, his arm fell from the head rest and curled around his shoulders. The warmth escaping Atem's body could substitute for an electric blanket.

"What is it really, Yugi? It can't be fear of lil' ole me," Atem's faintly amused voice grazed against Yugi's temple and—_Jesus, when had he gotten so close_? "There's more to it than that."

There was more; more than Atem could ever begin to understand. The urge to constantly glance over his shoulder was staggering. It was Yami; Yugi had a hidden fear of now. The man's face had entered and molested the hell out of Yugi's mind on several occasions during dinner and a few times during their journey to his home.

Now that he knew what Atem was, should Yugi continue to see him, when not too long before, he'd asked Yami if he could see him more often? There was Atem too. Yugi didn't know if he should say anything about knowing Yami because the history between them was bloody. Blue and red didn't mix. Spades always had the cutting edge, while aces could always come back with a sudden force. That was the mental struggle Yugi battled with even as he stared into Atem's eyes.

"I noticed something about you."

Yugi blinked and held his breath when Atem said those words.

"You're angry when you're confused or treated with little regard. You become distant when nothing makes sense to you. What is confusing you now, young buck? Is it so difficult that you can't say it to me?" Atem moved in closer.

The air in Yugi's lungs screamed violently to be released. He held still, perfectly frozen and nerves exploding. "It's everything, I-I wish I knew what to do. My decisions, so far they haven't been wise. I need that slate clean of being foolish. I . . . I . . . don't . . ." Atem was so close. Yugi could taste the wine from dinner on his breath as it hovered over Yugi's lips. "I don't want to be afraid of you or the decisions I make."

"You'd be better off scared, Yugi."

"Why?" Fire licked wildly in Yugi's belly.

"Because I said so. That's plenty of reason to be. I'm guaranteed to break your spirits in the end." Nose to nose, Atem lingered above, looming as a quiet predator and with the power of destruction at his beckoning. "If this isn't what you want, you better say so now." He could break Yugi in half with pure strength or wreck his mind with a single sentence. He did none of those things.

In the time lost to Yugi, Atem's hand left his chin and the teen felt the catch of fingers in his hair, the clutch yielding him forward and the sudden recline of Yugi's seat, pushing as far back as allowed. Purple eyes combated with the smothering burgundy devouring Yugi's face in one fell swoop and his entire body quivered under the touch of large caramel hands palming his cheek and slipping down to caress his throat.

Yugi knew it was coming, but the muffled sound he made still held his surprise when Atem pressed his lips to his. All the stiffening and lack of response didn't deter Atem's efforts as he moved with slow, precise motions. Yugi winched and pressed his palm to Atem's chest, though knowing it didn't possess the full desire to push him away. He was melting by slow degrees into the way Atem's lips nibbled and suckled and praised the shape of Yugi's mouth. The gliding sweep of wet warmth sent Yugi's mind reeling with every hot sensation imaginable. His stomach went in spirals and flips and gradually networked its way down to his groin.

Atem's shoulders hunched when Yugi's fingers curled around his shoulders like talons. That's always been a particularly sensitive place for him because it showed his lover's strength and ability to hold him. Yugi's grip was strong and, oh very tantalizing like the way his lips were. Atem expressed his pleasure with a vibrating growl in his chest. Yugi felt the subtle tenors coax a gentler response out of his body and hesitantly parted his lips.

Atem's tongue didn't wait to curl in Yugi's mouth and navigate through hills of white teeth and the wet bed of moisture so tart from the aftertaste of sweet tea and utterly irresistible. Their heads swiveled from side to side in silently agreed intervals, and _God, where had Atem learned to kiss this way_? Every arguing thought bellowing for Yugi to stop before he got burned, was engulfed by the very flame he didn't need.

Where Yugi's hands were, that's exactly where Atem wanted them to be when he fucked the insanity of him. Atem was falling at a speed indescribable. He'd meant to only sample these young lips. He didn't know tasting the buffet would lead to desiring the full course. Though Yugi's kiss was awkward, moved a bit too quickly and held still at points, his inexperienced surged shockwaves to Atem's dick. It stirred like a cobra charmed by a flute. He was glad Yugi's body count would never amount to his own. That meant fewer people to kill in the long run.

Atem's large hand was upon Yugi's crotch and cupping the bulk of what felt like a healthy grit. Yugi closed his eyes tight for a moment, and then abruptly pushed up. "No," he gasped, shaking his head. It was too fast, too sudden. Yugi pushed again when Atem didn't budge. "No," he repeated sternly and looked ready to fight.

Atemlet him go, watching the red blush on Yugi's face shine and glossed off the moon's silver glow. That had gone too far, even for his standards. His truly lessened patience was, was getting—shit, now that he had a taste, his mind was clouded with thoughts of wanting more. "Shit," he murmured, dragging a hand down his face, eyes straying out the windshield. He dared to look at Yugi's composure and wished for a larger space.

The teen's thick hair was in disarray from Atem tugging on it. One glance in the rearview mirror said Atem's composure was a little neater. He prided himself in keeping his dignity very fit in the most unspeakable circumstances. Now, there was a slip in demeanor. His eyes showed a glimpse of a broken guard.

Atem looked over his shoulder at Kisara's slumbering face and sighed. At least he hadn't scarred his daughter for life. How messed up would that be?

"Take me home," Yugi said behind the cage of the fingers tracing his swollen lips.

Atem didn't need to be told twice. He removed the gear out of park and finished creeping the rest of the way into Yugi's neighborhood, keeping a diligent eye on the red blood runners eyeing his rental car and looking for tell-tale signs of who was driving it. Atem thought, for a moment of sheer confusion and as his car tumbled on the bumpy dirt road that he spotted a car parked in the distance but dismissed the idea as soon as it entered his mind.

When he pulled to a stop, Atem left the car on and placed it back in park a couple of meters from Kame's Shop. He killed the headlights, and sighed, facing Yugi, and arched an eyebrow to find the young man staring intensely at him.

"Yes?" Atem urged.

Yugi opened and closed his mouth. Twice his eyes turned to face his door and then came to rest on Atem. "That, I mean, the kiss. It doesn't mean I agreed."

"What _does_ it mean?" Atem thought Yugi's blush couldn't get any cuter. "That we wanna fuck worst then we did before?"

"No, it means we're both unnecessarily horny. And can you try a filter?" Yugi whisper, amusement fogging his eyes. "You have a daughter back there."

"She's heard me say worse." Atem took Yugi's hand and played with the valley of knuckles on top with his thumb. "I'd say it means you're considering it. I could give you a reason to keep it on your mind or is fear of the unknown and being caught fucking an older man, what keeps you from deciding?" He kissed Yugi's knuckles, one by one, lingering as if Yugi's taste was strong and addictive.

"It's a lot of things." Yugi eased his hand free because talking with those creamy lips touching him left his mind jumbled. "I need to figure out whether it's worth the risks." _And whether it's worth continuing on with him while knowing Yami existed. _ Yami hadn't gone through the same initial chase as Atem, Yugi noted, but he . . . it was just something about him that drew Yugi in—

A chuckle tore his mind from Yami's imaginary face to seeing Atem step out of the car. "You're a wonder indeed, young buck."

Yugi cast one last look at Kisara, sleeping soundly in her car seat and smiled before opening the door. He jogged a few steps to match Atem's stride up the short journey to his front door. Now that the date was over, he wanted to get away more than ever, particularly because of what usually came after a date. Yugi reached the door first, well aware of the quiet steps bringing Atem closer and closer. Yugi fumbled around his pocket for his keys, cowardly refusing to turn around and face the danger mingling in this man's 5'11 frame.

Atem's hands surged forward and cupped Yugi's sides, tugging his back into his chest. Shivers raked Yugi's entire body, his chest heaved, and his lips were left agape and his shoulders bounced for every shuddering breath. Feathery kisses grazed Yugi's neck softly, barely there and gentle. "Are you running from me?"

"No, I'm just ready to go home." Or so he believed. After allowing ten of those kisses, Yugi wet his lips. It felt so good, his throat dried. The abilities Atem probably possessed were so enticing. Yugi was unnaturally nervous because he knew what Atem wanted. That sinking feeling in Yugi's stomach liquefied in a pool of lava. It was so clear and obvious Yugi wanted to fuck right now, it scared him.

Yugi quickly stuck his keys in the keyhole, turned the doorknob and pushed forward. He didn't get far.

"Nice try." Atem whirled Yugi around in his arms, bringing him closer with the wild force. Yugi stuttered incoherently but Atem was already kissing with that amazing skill and taking Yugi back to the wild world. The T.O.G. didn't waste time coaxing a way inside Yugi's mouth. He forced his way in and took what he so longingly desired. Atem stroked his tongue along the inside of Yugi's mouth, flicked and drew back to trace over Yugi's bottom lip. Yugi moaned and clung to him, because, because, he'd momentarily thought there was nothing wrong with indulging himself for once.

Would it really hurt to? Yami wouldn't have to know. Yugi would never tell him. It could be a one-time thing, just once and never again. Besides, Yugi owned Yami no loyalty of any kind. They had no ties. . . _Yami._ Atem put a hand on Yugi's back and steered him in expertly for a deeper penetration. Atem licked his around mouth, rolling his tongue up and down as thoughtfully as though he'd never tasted something so sweet before.

"Oh Yugi, baby, I could give you so much," Atem whispered and kissed tiny specks on Yugi's forehead, his cheeks and his mouth. "One word is all I'm looking for. Say _yes_ instead of _no._"

Yugi opened his eyes. Atem's face hovered above his, and his eyes were locked on Yugi's, and they shone with a fire several degrees beyond lust. One time, would it really be only once? Atem kissed him again. He lowered himself so that his chest was fitted against Yugi's and he rocked in a smooth, up and down motion, hips brushing in a sensual grind, groins mashing and so fiery, Yugi flowed into it. The floodgates keeping his fire at bay whipped open and he felt every string and muscle joint tighten. He'd never felt this good before.

The kiss had, at long last, ended and the pair had reared away from one another when the darkness dissolved into thunderous explosions and auburn light. The air crackled two instances, very loud and very bright; Yugi whirled around with his heart clogging his throat.

A cold shudder hauled up his spine. _Gunfire, someone was shooting, _he understood too little, too late. The orange flare didn't die as it careened toward him and suddenly he was in an unbelievable amount pain. He flew through a region colors shadowing his gaze and the force of his heart seemed more pronounced. He-he couldn't believe what just happened. Yugi cried out, awed and horrified as a dark silhouette stepped forward and continued to release rounds.

Yugi heard four, maybe six bronze bullet shells ricochet off the ground, kicking up dirt and stone. He was vaguely aware of the chaos taking place overhead. He sunk to the ground, clutching the shattered ligaments and skin melting from his left arm. Blood seeped through his fingers. Yugi couldn't believe he'd been shot. It burned as if gasoline were being poured in his flesh and set ablaze. When he took deep breaths, he could only breathed pure agony instead of oxygen.

There were deep voices shouting, so far and swallow as if beneath the waves of the sea or going down a tunnel. Somewhere in the mist he heard his grandfather calling out and Atem forcing him back inside. Yugi wedged his eyes open, fighting through the pain to see what was really happening. He saw legs and feet sprinting back and forth and the ear piercing sounds of gunfire.

Silence hung in the air. An arm came and clasped Yugi's shoulders so suddenly; he stiffed and shut his eyes in case he would feel one of those shots first hand. But it was Atem's voice, calm, peaceful and soothing. "Get up. You can move. The bullet went straight through."

Yugi grunted when he was forced to his feet and shoved against the wall for support. "I, I can't."

"Yes you can. Stand up!" Atem ordered firmly. Yugi lazily blinked, a chill so unfamiliar enveloping his body. A soft slap to his cheek steered him from giving into the gentle sleep. "Wake up, boy! No sleeping!" A slam against solid wood jolted Yugi awake. His purple eyes skated around the darkness, apprehensively trying to pinpoint where the next shot might come. His heart was jumping beats. What happened, what was going on, who was shooting?

"Son of a bitch," _click, clank. _Atem loaded a new magazine in his holder and snapped it in before taking aim. "Yami! Come out here, you cowardly ass motherfucka'!" He let out three quick rounds, all in random directions.

The three shots were answered back with five.

Yugi's eyes bugged out of his head. _Yami, it was Yami!_ His mind wailed, terrified. Yugi ducked his head down to miss the shots. He couldn't believe this was happening. Had Yami figured it out? How could he? This was too sudden and too fast. Yugi had only found out about Atem tonight!

"Yugi!"

Said teen froze with his eyes going wide and blurry. He shakily turned his head and there was Yami. Yami who was standing in the open unafraid of Atem's gun, Yami who was there and aiming his gun right back and Yami who could put the fear of God in anyone because he was one. He stood there, incredibly frightening in the darkness as if he knew it fold and cloaked it around his body. Yugi turned his head from side to side, and slid down from the plaster of his home, heavily sedated under the weight of Yami's demonic gaze.

"Yami . . ." he scarcely whispered the name as if saying it aloud would bloom a curse. "Please, don't. Please don't—"

Another shot was fired. Yugi landed hard on the ground from the rough shove and the large weight covering his upper torso. Heated metal fell by his face where the kick of salty dirt and pebbles swept into his howling mouth.

"You sat around talkin' with me while you were fuckin' with a blue blood?!" Yami shouted, his deep voice heavy with slang. "That's how you get your kicks, you lil' shit? Nobody fucks me over. You won't walk away from here breathing! I can promise you that!" Yami recoiled behind his car and stretched his arm out and below to deliver several more shots.

"I didn't . . ." Yugi said, out of sorts. "I swear I didn't know . . ."

The chaos died to an abrupt halt. Yugi dared to open his eyes when the weight left his body. He looked up and up and wished he could sink in a hole. A dark, nasty chuckle came from above and seemed to cup in his ears. "Oh . . . so that's how it is."

Yugi scrunched like a curled centipede when a size eleven shoe kicked him in his stomach. He coughed and saw stars, and ears flooded with hot blood. Vertigo was a possibly because the need to vomit was great and his vision unfocused. The next time that foot connected to his body it snapped his face to the side and remained on his cheek, digging unsightly ridge marks in his skin. There was no question about it. Yugi knew he was going to die and there was no way out of it.

"You low down, dirty dog," Atem said in a dark, hollowed tone. "I'm sittin' here trying to see if you'll ride or die, but from the looks of it, you wanna die. I can't blame you though, no. I let myself get drawn into those pretty eyes and you looked like a good enough fuck. But nah, we won't be doing that now will we?" The gun clicked. "You have ten seconds to start explaining and by five, I better have my answers or I'm gonna fill you and your grandfather with some hot shit. _One_."

Blinking through the tears gathered in his eyes, Yugi prayed and searched his brain for anything that might convince this man to let him live.

"_Two_."

Yugi's closed his eyes tight, but didn't hear the expectant projectile, pollute the air in gun powder. He licked his lips, and blinked the tears free. "I didn't know," he hoarsely said.

"_Three._"

"I'd met him first, Atem. I had no idea you were a blue blood until tonight. How could I say anything by then? I didn't know what to do. That's why I was scared. I would've gotten killed either way. _Please_, Atem!" Yugi begged pitifully and didn't care how pathetic he looked to this man. He was fighting for his life and his only weapon was a set of words that sounded like they were coming from a broken record. "I wouldn't fuck around with both of you on purpose! Do you think I'm that crazy? I had no idea, I swear!"

"Fuckin' liar!" Atem slammed his foot down, ringing a harsh cry from Yugi. "You could've told me when we were in Shay la Belle. I let you around my daughter! You had your opportunity, but I think I know where this is heading. I'll be damned if it happens to me again in the same lifetime. Fuck this, I'm at five and not convinced."

"I was scared, Atem, for god's sake!" Yugi quaked as if he were on the verge of a seizure. "I couldn't tell how you would react if I told you then or if I told you later. I-I didn't know what to do." Sobs violently tore through Yugi's body as he quivered and balled himself in a fisted defense. The pain coming from his arm and the thought of being killed left so much emptiness in his heart and stomach. What more could he do, what more could he say?

"_Five, six, seven _. . ."

Yugi's hopes crumbled to rubble. It was over. He was going to die. Yugi tried to force himself to fall unconscious, to go to sleep or even just die from blood loss. He would take any of those if he could simply be put out of his misery before the bullet tore through his innards. He heard the shuffle of grass beneath leather boots, and drew in a breath.

Atem tensed, obviously having been so engrossed in killing Yugi, that he'd forgotten Yami would kill him too. He quickly dug around his waist band for the small pistol—he never got the chance. The familiar tap of steamy muzzle on his temple would've ripped the air out of surprise from Atem's lips if he didn't remember how much Yami enjoyed putting the fear of the devil in his victims. Atem would hardly give the bastard the satisfaction.

"Well, isn't this a cozy sight; a union between the three of us in not-so-decent circumstances. Ah, the memories just refuse to die don't they, Yami?" chuckled Atem.

"Shut up." Yami had two barrels directed at Atem and Yugi and Atem had his gun pointed downward at Yugi's throat. The odds were stacked against Yugi, no matter what now. "How long has this been going on?" Yami growled.

"Has _what_ been going on?" Atem answered.

Yami pulled the trigger on both guns. Yugi's eyes flew open and Atem narrowly resisted a flinch. Nothing happened but a hovering click that struck a bolt of fear in Yugi's chest. "Does it look I'm playing with you?" Yami said. "Last time. How long have you been fucking around behind my back?" He looked pointedly at Yugi out of the corner of his eye, killing him slowly with his red glare.

And Atem retrieved his gun as well, aimed for Yami's crown. "Don't ever take your eyes off me, Young Blood. It's likely to get you fucked up." Though it was the gun pointed at Yugi he had the desire to shoot more. "Now that we're even, we can do this the easy way or the hard away," he said to Yami. "We can both shoot the brat and go on our merry way or we can just start shooting and may the best man survive."

"How's about a better choice," Yami evilly offered. "I get my answers and take you both out."

"Bad idea, I have a terrible way of coming back." Atem kept his guns steady. "We'd be better off offing this kid, Yami. He would've whored himself on the both of us if he continued on."

Yugi bowed his chin to his chest, tamely staying out of the conversation and allowing his assassins to carry on. In the meantime, his brain raced, making conclusions and discarding them, trying to come up with any new ideas that might save his ass or get him killed quicker. Yugi winced where his fingers encased his bleeding wound and decided to take a risk. If he was able to succeed, then he could at least keep his grandfather safe.

Yugi swallowed thickly and opened his mouth. "Atem, Yami." Yugi shifted his head under the weight of Atem's shoes, wanting at least one of his eyes on the pair. He'd gained their haunting attention. Yugi couldn't picture a better pair of hellish guards for the underworld. If looks could kill, Yugi would've been dead yesterday. "Kill me if you want. I'm so far from giving a damn at this point. Just grant me one request, just one, and do whatever you want."

The leaders narrowed their eyes simultaneously, a chill whipping pass like wind over a frozen pond. Yugi could've laughed hysterically with relief when Atem moved his foot aside and Yami and him lowered their guns.

"That's a bit redundant, since you'll die regardless. Nonetheless, I'm not beyond giving a man his final dues." Yami crouched down to the balls of his heels and pressed his hot barrel on Yugi's neck, ignoring the teen's pained hiss.

Atem lowered his himself, grunting along the way and smacked his gun in his palm. "Speak," he quietly ordered. "If it's something stupid, so help me boy, I'll shoot your nuts off and feed 'em to your granddaddy."

Yugi gave one nod. He took a deep breath, prayed and said. "Don't kill me in front of my home. Do it somewhere, anywhere, but here. My grandpa's already suffered enough losing my brother. Please, _please _do it somewhere else and hide my body so that he can never find it."

"You're saying you want to die?"

"No, of course I don't. I'm scared I'll piss my pants, but really, you've already made it clear you're gonna kill me." Yugi gave the longest sigh and looked pass their shadowy faces and into the partially clouded sky. "I've already told the truth. You're just too blinded by your rage to listen. So, fuck it, I guess. Heba was like that too. He'd get so angry that he'd—"

"—lash out and question later, because it wouldn't make sense otherwise," that was what Yami whispered. Yugi's gaze zeroed solely on him and without a shadow of a doubt, he realized something disturbing.

"You knew him too," Yugi said, disheartened and quiet. "You and Atem? You both knew him? Yami, I talked to you about him in the café. You didn't say anything. Why?" His voice rose in the end. "Did you know him too? Did you?!"

Atem and Yami shared an elongated glare, more piercing and sharp as a polished blade. Yami pushed up to his feet. "Yeah, I knew him," Yami coldly said. "I knew your twisted brother and, God help me, I wish I'd never met the fool."

Yugi laid there, stunned. "Heba wasn't a—"

"Ha, like the devil, he wasn't," Atem barked in an ugly snarl. "You think us to be so vile and conniving. It's nothing compared to what your brother put us through." He pointedly looked at Yami. "Well, some of us suffered more than others—"

"Shut up!" Yami snapped. "You were no better than I was—"

"I mourned for the time loss because of him," Atem sternly corrected. "Things could've been different, Yami. You and Heba chose to fuck it up!"

"_We_ fucked it up? Atem, you were the one who—"

"—don't you dare place the blame on me! I had our lives set. You refused to follow through—"

In a lot of ways, Yami knew he was like Heba, brash, calm and calculative lethal. That's why when he heard a car door open from behind, he didn't think about who it could be. Only that they were behind him and possibly dangerous. Yami pivoted on his heel and took aim.

* * *

She was awakened by the sounds of the city's annual firework festival and shouts of cheer. Maybe it was a dream but when she opened her eyes, Kisara saw the explosive designs of orange and red and yellow brilliantly glowing outside. Rubbing her fists over her eyes, Kisara smacked her lips and giggled when she heard the sounds crackling outside again.

She didn't see her daddy or Yugi. They had to be outside and left her in because she fell asleep. Kisara unbuckled her car seat and undid the one strapped across her chest. If her daddy knew she could get out of her restraints so easily, he was sure to give her a spanking, but she couldn't think about that now.

The darkness settled outside. Kisara crawled over the suave interior on her hands and knees to the back window, surveying the stretch of night. She didn't see anything. No Yugi, No daddy. It was a little foggy outside, kind of like when her daddy had his friends over and he never let her leave her room. She did once and the whole living room was covered in white mist.

Kisara gasped. If it was smoky outside that meant Uncle Seth was here to watch the fireworks too and so were Aunt Isis and Cousin Marik. Kisara pressed her hands on the tinted windows eagerly and glanced around. She couldn't see anyone. It was terribly dark outside. She didn't want to go out by herself but it was equally scary in the car too.

"Daddy, Yugi!" She called.

No answer. There were no voices either—wait, yes there were. Kisara suction cupped her face against the window and turned her face as far as she could against the cold glass. There was someone outside. She immediately recognized her father's figure and happily called out to him. He and someone else were huddled over on the ground looking at something. It must've been interesting because Yugi was lying on the ground with them.

"Daddy, I wanna see too!" Kisara worked on pulling the door handle until it opened. She pushed it out and landed on the dusty earth. The door slammed shut . . . and she ran out.

* * *

In many ways, Yami wasn't like Heba at all. When he saw was a small girl with a smile the spitting image of Atem's, his finger refused to pull the trigger. Six years ago . . . she was alive.

"So, you did have her," Yami murmured in a strained tone, like pulling strings to an already stretched violin.

Atem, having completely voided Yugi from the universe, held both his guns pointed at Yami's head. When the car door opened, he'd lost his heartbeat. It was the first strike of fear to ever engulf his heart and leave it raw and exposed. He'd gone insane for a split instant when Yami aimed his gun at the car. Kisara could've been killed. Blood flooded his ears and every kind of murderous intent began to carve a hole in his brain. Protect her at all costs and yet, Yami didn't shoot. That was the only reason Atem hadn't fired.

"Yes, I hadn't known until later on," Atem answered. "By then, it was too late."

Yami shook his head, gravely, tucking his gun away in his waistband. It was a sudden, stupid move, one so foolish it shocked Atem into lowering his weapon too.

"You fool, you—you incredible, damned fool," Yami whispered angrily, fists clutching at his sides. "You crippled the strength of your family for the sake of one heartbeat. How reckless. Do you have any idea what you've done?" He looked at Atem through eyes clear and pitying and enraged. "Why?"

"You know why . . ."

Yami shook his head again. No, he did know, but he refused to accept it.

Yami sunk down to his knees, bunched Yugi's shirt in his fist and yanked the teen up to his feet. Yugi was pushed to the wall, arm sore and his back aching. "Do not come near me again. You understand?" Yami slammed Yugi's back hard enough to rattle the boy out of his approaching unconsciousness. "On my life and yours, I swear I will kill you. History won't be repeated! Not with me!" One last tongue-biting slam emphasized his promise before Yami turned his gaze to Atem, just as hard and just as meaningful. "You keep away from me too."

"I don't need to be reminded of what I ready do." Atem had his turn with Yugi as well.

The slap across the teen's face struck a chord of hums in his eardrums and the metallic taste of blood added to the miserable situation. A fist of his hair was gripped and yanked, tugging his head back, forcing his eyes to thin and his mouth to gape.

"Stay away from me, my daughter and my gang. If I see you, I won't think twice about putting a bullet in your head, Yugi Muto." He dropped the boy on the ground and spat on his face. The sour saliva dribbled and sat on the side of Yugi's cheek. "Solomon! Come and get this trash off your doorstep before it leaves a stench." As if the smell were already offensive, Atem backed away and went for his car, alongside Yami.

The two split apart and went their separate ways, no glances, and no words.

"Daddy, what's wrong?" Kisara asked when she was sweep up and buckled up in the backseat. "Where's Yugi?"

"Yugi is not allowed to play with you anymore, Kisara. You'll have to make new friends." Atem ducked in the driver's seat, and put the car in reverse.

Kisara sniffled, "But I wanna play with Yugi, Daddy. Why can't I?" She went unanswered and tears sprung to life in her eyes."Daddy, please?"

Well, Atem couldn't help that now, could he? "You'll learn to adjust without him."

"Yugi's my friend, I don't want another friend." Kisara hid her watery eyes inside her arms and continued to cry in quiet despair and hiccups. "I want Yugi . . . I want Yugi, Daddy."

He scowled at her through the rearview mirror. Weakness was a trait he should've weaned from her by now. When he'd been twelve, the entire Blue Eye Ace Empire was lain on his shoulders and not only had he mastered the ability to lead, he'd revolutionized the name. Kisara would learn people would come and go in life. Atem had to learn how to move on the second he learnt of someone's death. She was too young to understand a parent's choices. When it came to the safety of his daughter, he'd ensure she was alone for the rest of her life. If that guaranteed she never had to know the feeling of betrayal so many times as her father had. . .

"Please, Daddy?"

Atem sighed, prepared for an even longer night. "You'll be alright, baby girl."

_T__his too, shall pass_.

* * *

Yami entered his bullet-peppered car and whipped out his phone. He pressed in two different phone numbers and when each man answered, he said, "Come here," to both and nothing more. They'd know he needed the peace of mind. Tonight was a hammer threatening to break through his sculpted walls. Chips were gradually chiseling off the edges. That didn't mean they'd crumble. Yami would restore the cracks and keep going.

* * *

Yugi remembered flashes of blue and red, his grandfather crying and the blur of the world. But more importantly, he remembered feeling his chest concaving where his heart was, so very hollow and empty. He was alive . . . but why did it feel like he'd still died?


	9. Consumed

**Author's Rant:** Thank you so very much everyone. And yes, if any of you spot a mistake please inform me. I try my best to find them but with such long chapters, I'm bound to miss a few. Enjoy!

_~Side note~ Corrections have been made_.

* * *

**Consumed**

* * *

Yugi had woken up at the worst possible time when he was admitted into the hospital. Doctors, nurses and other needed staff were on foot, surrounding his bed, scissoring through his clothing, and firing questions from every direction and the bright overhead light gave him a ridiculous headache. Sometimes he thought he heard familiar voices shouting in the background and other times, he heard his name being mentioned by voices he didn't know. But the sting of iodine thoroughly flushing his arm sent shock waves of agony through his nervous system.

Pain was something he did recognize.

Panic and nausea welled up in his stomach, and no amount of groaning could bury his whimpers. Cottons swabs blotted over the dried blood to unleash a fresh spill of it. Metal fragments outlined the bullet hole, which was a small entry wound but a large exit. It was hell cleaning out the exit hole.

It would scar, the doctor informed under his breath to his assistant, but at least he'd leave. Yugi could hear it all. The talk about how it would look, whether he would be able to continue playing baseball and how lucky he was it didn't shatter any bones. Yugi didn't think he was that lucky. The pain of regret continued to terrorize him in the worst possible way. Whenever his consciousness drug him to the surface of reality, he was met with frightful images of Yami's shadowy face and his ears strung from the low growl of Atem's voice.

Getting the bullet fragments out hurt. His screams would echo from the emergency room and out through the double doors.

It was all Tristan could do not to run in there and pound the doctor's faces in. One powerful howl crushed his soul and had him sprinting toward the double doors like a mad man. "Cut it out! Do you have to fuckin' hurt him so much?!" Three security guards manhandled him to the ground and it took Solomon's calming words to ease Tristan's worries. It wasn't easy for Solomon either, being unable to kiss his grandson's injuries like he used to. This one was much deeper than any bullet could penetrate.

Yugi winced for every time he had to endure the probing instruments. He was flopped on his side, nude from the waist up, and was spoken to soothingly by one of the nurses in hopes to distract him from the retractors used to peel back the burning hole. She gently stroked his face, asked him questions about his family and pushed away the sweaty hairs matted on his brow.

It worked for small moments. Yugi couldn't ignore it, though God he tried his best to. Antibiotic infused saline was washed over the wounds again and debrided to prevent infection. After two hours of extensive care, at long last, the torment was over and bulky sterile gauze was wrapped around his upper arm. Muscular damage was all it resulted to in the end; mostly torn ligaments and damaged skin. The amount of blood loss had been the real worry of the doctor, but he was relieved to find it wasn't as bad.

It would be a long road to recovery, that much was certain. Yugi would see as the weeks passed that time could only heal certain wounds.

* * *

**Two Weeks Later**

Bruises still littered Yugi's body in dark blues, purples and circles of black. The swelling on his jaw had gone down to a light plump and some of the scratches had healed to little scars. The newspapers devoured the chance of broadcasting Yugi Muto's health status whenever information leaked from the hospital; his current home. He'd been interrogated for ten hours during his two week stay from detectives. They asked the same questions repeatedly. A couple even assumed this was in connection to Heba's death and feared a pattern. Or possibility that Yugi was somehow involved with a drug trade gone wrong. Yugi hadn't wanted visitors after they'd left. No one except his grandpa was allowed inside and even his company took some straining on Yugi's part to adjust.

He just wanted to be alone to think and look out the window. The weather had been cloudy and grey for most of his second week. The doctor said he wanted to be sure Yugi was in prime health by the time he was signed out for good and even then, he had a strict profile to abide by. He would need to attend physical therapy sessions religiously every other day if he had any hopes of attending the playoffs in three weeks. However, the chances of him playing were horribly slim. That worried him and so did many other things. Yugi's mind was floating elsewhere, lost, empty and confused. Not even the notion of possibly missing his chance at the title could keep him from questioning over and over again, what had Heba been keeping away? There was so much more to his life than Yugi realized.

During the times Heba had been home, gone to practice, talked to his few friends and played with Yugi, when had he had the time to do anything else? What else had he'd done? What secrets did he have and why—Yugi choked, throat becoming sour and thick—why hadn't Heba tried to fix it so it wouldn't come back to hurt his own brother? The sins amounted to so many now. The already tarnished image of his big brother was being stained and clouded with further bitterness. The few, and there were so few, good memories of Heba were being overwhelmed with these truths.

"_I knew your twisted brother and, God help me, I wish I'd never met the fool."_

"_You think us to be so vile and conniving. It's nothing compared to what your brother put us through."_

"My God," Yugi shuddered, head lolling to the side, eyes shut so tight they stung. "Heba, why? What did you do . . .?" Tears bloomed from Yugi's eyes, reflecting memories of Heba's face cold, lifeless face in a redwood coffin, unable to speak, unable to touch and unable to listen. Yugi winced, grasping through the tissue-thin sheets at where he thought his heart was, and let the tears fall. The agony was so raw it shattered him. It wasn't enough to die and leave Yugi with the burdens of taking care of the house and ensuring he didn't fail in school. Heba had to lay on another layer of fear to complicate Yugi's life.

Yugi wanted to hated him. He wanted so very much to hate the idea of his brother. He wanted to hate who Heba was, what he represented to the city and what person he truly was. But . . . how could he? Yugi tried to turn every ounce of his anguish into hating Heba but just couldn't. His cold, lifeless corpse haunted Yugi's mind. The teen heavily swallowed and curled into himself. The tears squeezed their way through, no matter how hard he shut his eyes. Heba had protected Yugi, helped him with his homework and read him bedtime stories. He'd let Yugi attend a couple of his high school practices and carried Yugi on his shoulders at some of the winning games.

What kind of person did Yami and Atem see in Heba? Because the brother Yugi missed and wanted to hate, couldn't be the same one. Was he really so twisted, cruel and terrible? What laid behind those maroon eyes that rarely knew a smile? What . . . why. . . "Heba, what did you do?" Yugi growled, as his hand found purchase in his matted hair and pulled. "What the fuck did you do? Why did it have to be me? Why couldn't you . . . why did you have to die?" Yugi wanted him back. He needed his big brother's hugs. He wanted that protection. Heba was the only one who could make sure it would always be ok. Yugi missed his eyes, his small smiles, his warm, his rusty voice and more than again, he just missed Heba's promises of making everything ok.

Because right now Yugi wasn't so sure it would. The way things were going, he couldn't imagine it getting any better. Yugi buried his face in the pillow, taking slow, concentrated breaths. This hell needed to end. He'd had enough. All these emotions, the sudden onslaught of weakness and regret and sorrow, was just too much. Yugi had thought he'd long since destroyed these feelings, but knew they were only restrained.

Yugi's tears slowed but didn't fully stop. He loosened his grip on his hair, palm full of technicolor strains. Yugi let the stray hairs fall away absentmindedly. "You're a real bastard, ya know," he said in a shudder whisper to Heba's memory. "I wonder now, was this why you didn't think you could be my big brother? Were you afraid I'd judge you, you stupid idiot?" Yugi sighed and finally opened his eyes to look out the colorizing afternoon. He felt so tired now. Sleep was a definite must, but when he did finally rest, it was to images of Yami and Atem's angry faces, the shouts of betrayal and maybe . . . the underlined tones of hurt he thought he heard.

* * *

Joey knew it was serious when he got the phone call two weeks ago. And here he was, being summoned back to the mansion, disgruntled and concerned about the state of mind he'd find his leader in this time. The last visit two weeks ago had been hazardous. Paintings, figurines, personal portraits, and wine bottles were everywhere in shattered heaps and messes. The room stunk of booze and was foggy with the smoke of Icy and '_Tupac's Life Goes On'_ floated from the stereo system that somehow survived Yami's rampage. Joey had been so stunned, he called in Seto, Akefia and Mahado to alert the family that someone had broken in and got the O.G.

That hadn't been the case.

_Yami was found in his bedroom, laying across the mattress with his hands behind his head and long legs bent over the edge. He'd stripped down to a pair of red silk pajama pants, leaving a full view of every scar, tattoo and line he'd obtained through the years. He didn't budge an inch when Joey knocked and walked in. The dark wooden dresser was wiped clean of Yami's personal items and slid on the ground to stain the plush carpet. The curtains were pulled to leave a hazy darkness in the room with tiny streaks of sunlight filtering in. _

_It gave just enough light for Joey to see the closed eyed expression on Yami's face and the firm press of his lips. Yami's hair was all over the place, sticking up where it felt like it. His chest rose and fell in even breaths, his lips were chapped and slightly blackened from the rub of cigarettes and blunt rolls he must've smoked. Joey quietly signaled for everyone to stay in the room when they started migrate towards the bedroom. He tucked his gun in his waistband and entered the bedroom, shutting the door behind him. He picked out an aged Victorian chair with red velvet suave and a cushion with gold embroils to sit in. _

_Joey probably sat there for fifteen, almost twenty minutes staring at the ball of Yami's knees and listening to the raspy sound of his breathing, when the O.G.'s voice broke the silence. _

"_I shot that Muto kid tonight."_

_Even though he'd prepared himself for whatever surprise came, Joey didn't hold back the widening in his eyes or the slight drop of his mouth. _

"_He's not dead though, I know he isn't. I couldn't bring myself to kill 'em." Yami gravelly murmured. _

_He missed? Joey couldn't believe what he was hearing. Yami didn't miss when he shot, he always got his targets. Joey shook his blond hair, "What da' fuck happened out there, O?" he softly asked. _

_Yami sighed, long and heavy. "Fuckin' mess," was what he said. "I got pissed off, thinking he'd been fucking around with Atem. I caught 'em kissing in front of his house."_

"_A fuckin' blue blood was in our turf?" Joey hissed, stunned and enraged. How the hell had he gotten in unnoticed? And more importantly, what had Yugi been doing with the Blue Eyes T.O.G? Didn't that brat know that was an automatic license for getting killed? Joey shook his head again. "Why didn't ya kill 'em? Ya had 'em both right there."_

_Yami's eyes opened, hooded and unclear. "I'm still asking myself that now. I should've shot them both."_

"_That don't make a lotta sense, O. That's strange even for you. You've been goin' easy on this Yugi kid since we met 'em." Joey knew it was risky, bringing up a touchy subject, but he just had to know. "Does it have anything to do with that guy from before? That Heba person?"_

_And Yami, the very man who wouldn't flinch if a bullet was two seconds from biting through his face, had just winced away like he'd been slapped. Joey hung his head in his right palm. That explained a good bulk of this shit then. That was the second time Joey ever spoke the name and it had the same physical reaction as last time. He knew only bits and pieces of what happened in Yami's past, but only what the O.G. allowed to be leaked in the streets. Everything else was shrouded in mystery._

"_Word's gonna reach out to Pegasus 'bout this, ya know that." Joey frowned, lips thinned. "Whatcha' gonna do? He might put a lock on you and that fool for a long time."_

_Yami gave a light shrug. "Max is many things but he's not a fool. He knows better than to fuck around with me. And he knows how dangerous that could be," Yami's voice sunk, drowning in the shadows. "Take ,me and Atem off the streets for an even week and the whole city burns."_

"_So what happens now?"_

"_. . . I don't know."_

That'd been the end of that conversation since Joey had been around. He didn't know what to expect driving down the pathway leading to his second home, but Joey hoped it was a better sight than before. His Tahoe sped along the winding path until spotting the looming Mediterranean home up ahead. Joey spotted a familiar burgundy Avalanche parked on the outer rim of the front yard fountain.

Cutting the engine, Joey shifted his Chicago Bulls snap back to the side, eyeballing the vehicle curiously. Last he'd checked, Seto wasn't due back in town for another couple of weeks since that shit brew down about somebody stealing money. What was he doing back so damn early? Joey stepped out, wearing a simple black t-shirt and dark blue jeans hanging off his hips, showing the waistband of his dark red boxers and with low top black forces to match.

The double doors cracked open as soon as Joey stepped foot on the terrace. Bright maple brown eyes greeted him, belonging to Ryou King. He was dressed in a light blue and white striped polo, grey jeans and black Reeboks. His expression was grime, and shifty when he met Joey's face.

Joey shifted from one foot to the other, tilting his head suspiciously. "Ya good, Ryou?"

The teen nodded, eyes looking everywhere but at J.R.'s face. "I am."

"Then why don't ya look it? Those goons still messin' with ya?"

"No-no not at all," Ryou quickly assured. "It's just." He chewed his bottom lip carefully.

"What?" Joey snapped. He couldn't stand that. "Whatever's goin' on? Just say it!"

Ryou flinched back and used the frame of the door as a small shield. "Yami's not in the best of health right now. He's gotten more news from the East again and it's not been good."

Joey pinned him with a harsh glare. He didn't like the sound of that, but that wasn't anything new. He'd been called here and he'd dealt with Yami's cold attitude plenty of times. "Alright, lemme see 'em."

"Hold on." Ryou pressed his palm to the opposite end of the door to block Joey's way. He wore a new expression now with less nervousness and more determination. It was a gentle switch from a bunny to a tame pit bull, but Joey knew when and when not to take Ryou seriously. "I need to know something."

Joey's eyebrow quirked.

"About two weeks ago a friend of mine got hurt pretty badly. You know him. His name's Yugi. I'd know those kind of bruises anywhere. They're no different from mine." Ryou thumbed over the ones that used to litter his own body, except now they were a faded infliction. "Joey, be honest with me. Do you know who it was who hurt him? He won't speak to me or anyone for that manner. I've tried to reach him by phone but he refuses to answer. I've gone by his home but he doesn't want visitors."

"I might, but what's it to ya? The kid just got roughed up a lil' bit for buddin' in other people's business. You know how the streets work. You got a brother and a boyfriend operating most of it behind the walls."

Ryou shook his snowy mop. "I want to know so I may be able to help him the way he helps me." Ryou clinched the door frame. "No one, not even the friends we talk to, are willing to see me for who I am. He talks to me and treats me like I'm human while even the teachers slink away. He," Ryou swallowed, "he doesn't care that my brother and boyfriend are a part of a gang like the others. I just—I just want to be able to help him the way he's helped me—_mmph_!"

Joey gave the driest sigh as he mushed his hand flat on Ryou's face and shoved him to the side. He caught the teen by the wrist to balance him before he fell over and ruffled his fluffy white hair. "Yeah, yeah kid I get it damn. He's a saint." Joey left, aiming for the hallway.

Ryou's shoulders deflated in a low slump. "Joey—"

"I got cha', Ryou. Everything's gonna be just fine. I mean it, no sweat." Joey tossed a two finger salute over his shoulder as he wandered down the hall, thinking. This Yugi kid was a real piece of work. Just how many people's lives did he plan on dominating before he got himself hurt or killed? First Yami, then Ryou, fuck even Joey and now to hear he'd been messing around with Atem? This boy better recognize that he wasn't Jesus before someone reminded him he didn't shit gold.

It was crazy. This kid had managed to rattle the O.G.'s chains like no other, besides Atem. What was it about this brat that was stirring everybody up? Joey wondered—

"You're late, mutt."

Joey blinked. He looked around. Oh. He'd made it to the foyer. Wait a minute. "Fuck you," he retorted at Seto. The blond walked in the rest of the way, studying the den that doubled for the Meet on some occasions. It was a whole different kind of place in the daylight with how the sun beams captured every particle of dust floating off the old furnishings and spotlighted the designs of the Persian carpets. Seto was sitting on one of the loveseats wearing a grey sleeveless turtle neck, low riding black jeans and a gold chain around his neck. He had one of his company's laptops perched on his lap, finger tips dancing across the keyboard with rapidity.

Yami was situated in the background near the fire place, loading his handgun and two other guns. He was dressed in a white wife beater, some Levi black jeans, a pair of black and red Jordan's and had a half burnt blunt sizzling in an ash tray. Neither man acknowledged Joey any more than Seto's insult nor even as he walked around the room, spotting more weapons lined on the back walls and inventory documents neatly stacked on coffee tables.

"The hell's goin' on?" he questioned.

Yami held up his gun to look through the back of the barrel, making sure it was clear before he locked it and secured it on the table. "The east docks were ambushed. We lost six cargos of merchandise."

"Six?" Joey screeched. "Got'damn that's a quarter of the funds. Who did it?"

"That's what we're trying to find out now," Seto answered, still typing. "Someone's going through a lot of trouble to sabotage our finances, and they keep doing it in steady increments." He pressed a button, waited and watched the screen flicker. "I can't find the main source because it's been divided into several different locations and every time I get a lock on it, it either divides or disburses into two more."

Joey had been around Seto long enough to interpret some of his viral language. "So, you're saying you've found the person but every time you catch them they dip out?"

"If that's the best way for you to understand, yes."

"You callin' me stupid?"

"You called yourself stupid."

"No, I didn't. Wait, did I?" Joey quietly backtracked to be sure he hadn't. "No, I didn't!"

Seto rolled his eyes. "The fact that you have to think about it proves your own case. Go fetch a slipper."

"Crack another dog joke again. I'm this close to—"

"Pissin' on the carpet? Newspaper's in the kitchen."

"Knock it off," Yami cut in darkly. Joey pouted, folding his arms. Seto snorted and went back to work. "I don't need you two bickering when got some shit brewing. Get a lock on whoever that is, Slim." Yami locked in the last magazine before standing and reaching out to snag his half-finished blunt. Taking a heave, he exhaled the mist, a stream of hot white, before turning to face his senior members. "I got another shipment coming in around three tonight." He tossed one of the loaded guns to Joey. "You'll need that."

The blond caught it, looking confused. "I thought you said the cargos were sabotaged. We only get six every three months."

"This one's got special cargo coming in. You and Seto are gonna go with Mahado to retrieve it for me and escort the load to the house on Winter's Ave."

"What about you? You comin'?"

"No, I got a meeting with Max by midnight. That French poodle of his, Zigfried, called me the other night saying I was summoned." Yami pulled his shirt off, exposing every lean cord of muscle on his chest and abs.

Joey safely stored the weapon away. "About what? Do you know?"

Yami shrugged before leaving the foyer behind. Joey observed his leader's every step, watching for any sighs of hidden repression of what happened the other week. So far the strong ridge of Yami's shoulders sat high and the swag of his stride seemed even. He looked back to normal as normal could be anyway. Joey just wasn't certain it was all a façade.

Joey gave Yami a few minutes before he followed after his leader. Leaving him alone to think didn't seem like a good idea. The blond knew the house like the back of his hand, so when he didn't find Yami in his bedroom, Joey aimed for the den downstairs, which was quietly tucked away from the prying eyes of visitors. The wooden stairs clumped under his weight as he took each one, slow and careful. The den downstairs was a getaway, so to speak, for whenever private shit needed to be discussed, but mostly it was a cave for Yami to tame his beasts in.

The whole décor was probably the only part of the mansion that didn't sport a shred of red. The stairs ended to a step off walkway made of wood and from there were three steps dipping further down into the eggshell and emerald green theme room. The carpet was as plush as a bed of grass and the walls sported an off-white shade. There was a portion of the room towards the back that held the lounging area; two large green leather circular couches, a transparent coffee table in the shape of a diamond and black pillow cushions decorated on the arms. A mini bar sat on the opposite end with the floor made of green and black marble. A wide flat screen television took up a quarter of the high rising walls. Lights shifted from various colorations like soft silver, humming gold and soothing white every few seconds, basking the whole room in comfort and tranquility.

Whenever Joey came down here, he always took in the splendid designs like a tourist. He wouldn't step down from the wooden patio unless invited in. But from here, he could see the back of Yami's head where he was sitting on the couch, leaned forward, rubbing his hands together.

Joey sighed, running a tired hand down his neck. "You know I've been worried about since last time, yeah?"

Yami's head nodded.

"I'm here, ya know, if ya ever wanna chat and shit," Joey chuckled awkwardly. "I'm no good at this sentimental stuff and I can't imagine what's got you mind-fucked but whatever it is, I wished it were over 'cause I'm not used to seeing you so . . . so . . ." _So defeated_ Joey wanted to say.

Yami's shoulders rose and fell before he lifted his hand and flipped his wrist, beckoning Joey to enter his domain. There was hesitation and uncertainty before Joey decided to chance stepping in and coming to squat down by Yami's side. The Red Eyes leader had changed into a red and yellow Ralph Lauren polo shirt and kept his jeans and shoes for the meeting with Max. Yami's eyes were closed, his fingers were braided in front of his mouth and he was as still as a roman statue.

"I hadn't known that boy for more than a week. Barely a damn week and yet, I trusted his word," Yami's voice muffled behind his hands. "It's crazy. Maybe subconsciously I did believe him. That's why I couldn't bring myself to kill him."

Joey nodded to say he was listening.

"I saw something in the way Atem held him in his arms. I saw myself there, stupid and naïve, just like Yugi." Yami chortled darkly. "The boy's so blind, he doesn't realize Atem would use him up and spit him out."

"If that's so, why didn't ya just leave 'em alone? I can understand if you thought they were up to no good but you said yourself, you somewhat believed him, so. . . what?"

"I can't honestly say," Yami mumbled. "I don't know him, I keep telling myself, but my mind doesn't listen. We spoke for a long while once about nothing and everything. That was the same day I handled those punks at the high school. The chat between us had been so casual and open. Hell, I even smiled more than I've done in years."

Joey blinked. "You did?"

"I did, and maybe that contributed to him being alive now." Yami lowered his clenched hands under his chin, half-lidding his eyes. "He's accomplished what only two others could in a matter of a day and. . ." What more could he say? Yugi's presence was alluring and, what's the word, peaceful? Assuring? As if seeing his smile and listening to him talk meant everything would be ok—

"That kinda excuses the brat's life, O, but what about Atem?"

"That," Yami paused, gritting his teeth. "That fool's another matter." That was a haunting question that's stole hours of sleep from Yami whenever he was faced with the perfect opportunity to kill the T.O.G. and oh, there'd been plenty. Many, many, many times Yami had been blessed with the perfect shot to take out the rival gang leader. It'd be too easy to finish this silent war of blood and power with a simple shot.

But then, the game would be over. Atem needed the competition and in a way, do did Yami. If there was no competition, there was no game. No game, no fun.

However, the reasons of keeping him alive and kicking went deeper than that.

And now, with the child thrown in the mix—Yami shook his head. "Damned fool," he whispered. Atem signed his death warrant having that child here. He's practically given all his enemies a loaded rifle to his head.

Yami pushed up to his feet, motioning for Joey to follow behind. A balcony door was stationed in the far corner of the room that lead outside to a winding path curving up a small incline and out to the front yard. Yami's other car, a dark platinum 2011 Camaro, sat in the place he usually drove his red car. Now with it drilled on all sides like a pasta strainer, he couldn't possibly ride around his territory with Atem's new trophy.

Together, the two Red Eyes followed the road up and out to the front yard. Yami turned off the alarm system with his clicker. Before he reached the driver's side, a large hand clapped heavily on his shoulder before he could take another step forward.

Joey's fingers squeezed. "For real, O, ya gonna be ok? I'm bein' serious. We're fam for a reason."

Yami's lips grimly thinned and he gave Joey a hard pat on his hand. "I will be," he said, sounding tired. "In due time anyway. Don't worry about what I'm going through because we got other shit to deal with now. Make sure that cargo gets in here unseen." Yami's gaze hardened. "Don't let anything happen to it. We'll need it all before we know it." With one last pat, Yami brushed Joey away and went inside his car. The engine purred to life before backing out and tearing down the road.

Joey stood there, hands in his pockets, and eyes focused on the back of his leader's vehicle. He wasn't convinced that Yami was fine or eventually would be. Something in him was cut deep and left to bleed. Was there even a Band-Aid big enough to help heal that secret wound?

Joey scoffed and went back inside to see if there were more details to know about for the raid tonight. He knew what was being carted in on one of the fish boats off the docks. Precious cargo were usually imported drugs from the borders and small time weapons. A special cargo though? Those were the big guns. Why the hell would Yami need to have those coming all of a sudden? The only time a supply of military weapons were ordered was to sell out to other groves and neighboring alliances, since the Red Eyes acted as a supply route. But to order an entire ship load? Joey couldn't understand what was going on with his leader lately. Could all of this craziness really be because of one kid?

Joey reached the foyer in minutes. "Slim, did Mahado call about the—oh, you're busy." Those hungry kissing sounds had been muted from his brain. So it was understandable that he'd walk in on his partner in crime in a compromising position with his boyfriend. Joey rolled his eyes. "Look man, don't go fuckin' tonight if you're not gonna get up on time for the raid. I'm not gonna be blamed for being off schedule this time," he grunted, walking in like it was perfectly fine to see Seto massaging Ryou's scalp and moving his lips over his as if sampling a popsicle. Ryou was pulled close to Seto's chest, a roaring blush stripped over the bridge of his nose as his hands fisted where Seto's pectorals bulged through his shirt.

Joey wouldn't admit to being a little envious of the pair and became quietly annoyed at how they continued to kiss despite his company. He shifted in place, tooting his lips to the side in a ball. "Hey, hey I'm talkin' to you!"

Seto swept his tongue across Ryou's soft, smooth bottom lip before tugging it and sucking it between his teeth. Ryou melted into him cozily and softly moaned and he lifted one of his hands to caress the line of Seto's jaw, urging the brunet to open his mouth and accept his tongue. Oh and Seto did, wholeheartedly. He tasted, licked and growled like a possessed demon locked away from its mate for centuries. He allowed the kiss to go on until his partner's dramatic sigh broke the spell.

The kiss reluctantly stopped when Seto leaned away to dig his nose in Ryou's neck, close to his ear. "You know how much I want you, right?"

"There's never been a doubt," Ryou answered, voice harmonized with the mix of adoration and lust. "I love you."

Seto hummed approvingly. When he lifted his gaze to peer up at the hot chocolate warmth in his boyfriend's eyes, Seto didn't doubt his own feelings either nor did he try to hide the raw way his eyes changed to a blue as dark as a waves under the night sky.

"Gimme a few minutes to deal with this clown," he murmured, pulling Ryou closer to press their foreheads together. "Then we'll head out to do our own thing."

"Alright," Ryou said and wrapped his arms around the taller man's neck and kissed him softly. The white haired teen stood up, adjusted his shirt and pants, then gave a small wave to Joey before walking toward the doorway.

Joey chuckled cheekily. "Geez, the way you two go at it, ya act like you'll never see each other again."

Ryou's back went rigid like a nail was suddenly shot through his spine. Seto's eyes narrowed. He cast such a withering glare at Joey he almost sunk into the couch. The blond hadn't realized what he'd said until it finally hit him.

"Ah shit," he groaned, slapping himself in the face. Joey glanced over his shoulder and Ryou was already gone before he could apologize. "My bad, I forgot how sensitive he is."

Seto waved him off. "He'll be fine. Though next time, have a better lock on that mouth of yours. I'll know better to keep that muzzle on whenever you come around humans." Seto retrieved his laptop from under the couch and rebooted it.

Joey _guessed_ he deserved that and let it slide for now. He knew those on the outside looking in, wouldn't understand how loved ones felt about their significant others or family members being in gangs. It was hard knowing that each time the phone rung it could be the police asking you to ID a body. It was a difficult situation to live with, but many tried.

It's been the reason why Joey's never gotten attached to anyone, especially after being the cause of his little sister's blindness. He hadn't had the courage to see her since then. But, after seeing how Ryou so warmly looked at Seto or how some of the other runners would get kisses and hugs from their loved ones, it made Joey want a little piece of that heaven too.

He suddenly thought about a tall dark haired teen with subtle sharp eyes and an even sharper mouth—

"The shipment docks at pier thirteen around two thirty. If we circle around below the bridge, there's a security tunnel used to escort the lot to a connection site. Mahado wants us to hold security of the perimeter until he's secured all the equipment. You'll be posted near the . . ."

Joey blinked, zoning back into the instructions firing off. That wasn't good. His mind had been elsewhere. . .

* * *

Atem kissed her cool hand a third time and held the baby smooth skin to his lips a second longer before rubbing it to his face. It'd been a draining few days, dealing with his daughter's withdrawal from him as well as her behavior in school. The teachers couldn't explain how a child so quiet and shy could suddenly become temperamental. She barely said more than ten words to Atem during their time together and even less during dinner.

_Every day after school Atem was there waiting for his child to cross the street with the rest of the bustling children who hurried to play at the flowery park. She was the only one who'd look expectedly around the field of parents and look past him for someone else. Kisara looked for the first person of no blood relation to be there and give her that same reassurance about it being ok to be unique. Kisara refused to give up. Even when she saw her father waiting in the midst of the other parents, she detoured to the swing set and sat and waited. None of the children would go near her and she never attempted to play with them._

_When the sun would leave the sky, and the skies were auburn and stained with bright red, she'd finally gather her things and leave to her father. The waiting and his daughter's patience had eventually worn through Atem's cool demeanor and opened a darkness he never thought he'd turn on his daughter._

_"Why won't you play with the other children?" he questioned while buckling her in her car seat._

_Kisara looked out the window and said nothing._

_Atem frowned. "Do you hear me talking to you?"_

_Her bright blue eyes searched along the plains of grass, flowers and around the street corners, wondering, hoping and wishing—_

_"Kisara!" Atem shook his daughter's shoulders slightly as he forced her to finally look into his eyes."Answer me. Why do you keep looking for him?"_

_Kisara dropped her eyes and played with her fingers. "I like him," she peeped quietly. "Yugi likes me too."_

_"And so can other children if you give them the chance."_

_She shook her head, bouncing her long pigtails. "You scare them away and they run. You tried to scare Yugi away and he didn't."_

_"I didn't—" Atem caught himself before the lie could leave his lips. He glanced out the open back door a moment and turned back to look at his daughter. "I only want to keep you safe. If you wish to play with the children now, you may."_

_Kisara shook her head a little harder this time. "No, they wouldn't be my real friends." She gazed at her father pleadingly. "I want Yugi, Daddy."_

_And the anger returned, brewing and threatening to boil over. "I've told you no. Yugi isn't allowed to come around you anymore. And that's my final word on it."_

_"Why not?" Kisara asked and was looking at his face with an interest that Atem knew couldn't be good. The bad thing about raising a sensible child was that they couldn't comprehend what it meant when you forbade them from doing something without a proper reason._

_Atem schooled his features before they could glower any more. He trained his eyes to stare sternly at Kisara's stoic expression. "Because I said so," he said._

_Kisara slowly lifted her head. Atem failed to hold in a small gasp. Kisara looked at him and said nothing. He'd never witnessed a glare violently filled with rage and bitterness. No, that was a lie. He knew that expression well enough to have mastered himself because it was his own. Kisara couldn't have looked more like her father. The sapphire shine in her eyes was soiled in midnight blue and her brow creased and wrinkled above her nose. Atem knew he couldn't count on his daughter to obey when she wore that expression._

_"I want Yugi," Kisara sneered and turned away from Atem._

It was something in the way she looked at him that day that left Atem speechless and unable to realize until now, how much Yugi's presence had affected her. It was like he'd cast some lingering spell that could only be removed by his hand. And a little of it seemed to possess Atem's mind to.

All because of Yugi. Could he really blame his daughter? Atem had urges to go and throw caution to the wind just to look at the boy. But he was always tugged back by the rope of anger and betrayal like a noose wrapped around his throat. Atem couldn't bring himself to trust Yugi again or go near the lad if he wanted to. There was too much danger involved. Had Atem known, even heard a small whisper of Yami and Yugi being associates, Atem never would've pursued the boy.

There was no coming back from what happened now. Atem leaned away after planting one last kiss on his daughter's hand and leaving the armchair he pulled next to her bedside. It was nearing eleven thirty now. Max was expecting him and Yami to be on time for some bullshit safety meeting. Atem changed out of his t-shirt and silk boxers into a black, smoke grey and white long sleeve button up, rolling the wide cuffs to his elbows and pulling on some acid washed grey jeans. After tying his black loafers, Atem walked into his living room to find Seth looking over the city.

Atem trusted no one but his family to keep his daughter safe and more importantly, he knew she was in well kept hands when under Seth's care.

The tall, regal posing cousin turned from the window to coolly look Atem over in a single sweep. "How long will the meeting last?"

"Long enough for me to debate on whether killing Pegasus is optional. I already know what he wants to discuss."

"Hm, that Yugi character I presume."

"You got it."

Seth nodded and returned his gaze to the window. He'd always had this thing for wearing a solid color theme late at night, Atem noticed. Like now, he was dressed from head to his socks in black; a sleeveless V-neck, black cargo lacks and Jordan socks. He kept his hair combed back and down his neck, neatly tied in a jet black ribbon. "What was it really that upset you, cousin?" he questioned out of the blue.

A pause. "What are you talking about?"

"That night two weeks ago."

Atem glared. "Don't try to read too much into it. I had a good fuck possible and Yami messed it up. Simple."

"If that were really true, you could've killed him and still had your boy toy." Seth side glanced him. "Did you get attached to the boy that fast? You know it doesn't take long for you to get soft on the eyes with anything that sparkles. You were like that with Yami, if I recall. And that fellow from before too."

Atem frowned, his heart rate picking up, but his mind refusing to admit a thing. "You don't know what you're talking about. I was young and stupid."

"The youth have a more defiant way of being honest. A lot of the decisions made in your youth are made because you _wanted_ them to happen. There's no hesitation. Only a brash and raw desire to fulfill it then and now." Seth shrugged. "You're not as old as you feel Atem and don't play me for a naïve. I know what I see. How long will you play blind until you do to?"

Atem's mouth went dry, tongue basked in nothing but sand. He licked his lips, and sighed every breath in his lungs. "It's not so easy, cousin," he whispered. "If I force myself to see, I may be lost again. I can't afford that, especially now. What will I have to gain?"

"A brighter future then the one we lead. Eventually, you'll want that old life back. The one you were willing to abandon us for six years ago. That brash, younger you, knew without a shadow of a doubt that he would betray all that he knew for something he wasn't sure he truly had—"

The front door opened and closed. Atem left without another word. Seth closed his eyes and smiled small. His cousin was running. Maybe he'd hit closer to the truth than intended.

* * *

"Sit down, mon ami. I've never seen you so stressed." Zigfried worriedly watched his lover pace to and fro in his private office, appearing and disappearing in the golden beam of his wall lamps.

Pegasus couldn't sit down. Not when he'd learned some very disturbing news. The city's stability was threatening to crumble. He'd ordered Duke to keep surveillance of the Medium terrain when he'd heard gunshots about two weeks ago. Grinding the information out of the police department took longer than expected but when learning a young man named Yugi Muto had been shot, Pegasus's skin crawled like spider legs were creeping up his body. No one could imagine the overwhelming relief that flooded his mind when doctors said the boy had only suffered moderate damage but it could've been worst.

The few bullet shells missed by the police force—such sloppy investigation skills—were analyzed and traced back to two handguns. Pegasus was livid to see Atem and Yami's names registered under the private underground data base. Calm down? How could he? Heba Muto's death had created such chaotic backlash in the city, it brought Armageddon. Imagine the destruction that would come if it were to happen again.

"S'il vous plaît mon amour," Zigfried gently cooed from the side, as his eyes following Pegasus's every step. "Relax. You'll run yourself ragged before the meeting starts."

Pegasus stopped near the edge of his desk, flattening his palms on the mahogany surface. "Relax, you say," he dully repeated. "My dear, how I wish I could, but at the moment I'm so tied up with stress, it'll be impossible to sit still. I need to move. I must." He leaned away and cupped his hands over his eyes, and dragged down.

"You're placing too much responsibility on your shoulders. Let some of the burden fall on me too." Zigfried scooted off the desk and circled around to wrap his arms around Pegasus's shoulders and nuzzle his nose against his fan of silver hair. "Come and sit."

"This burden is a weight I have to bear because I took it as one I would hold on my own." Pegasus did lean into the shorter man and allowed his muscles to be knitted with long, delicate fingers. "I'm worried for the lives of this city's people. They've welcomed me like a king when I first moved in from Washington and have further helped me establish my goals. How else can I think to help them but prevent as many unnecessary deaths as I can?"

"You are not God, Max. Even he can't be everywhere at once."

"Which makes me eager to cover what he cannot," Pegasus sighed. He dropped his hands over Zigfried's to hold them in place and walked them both, as one, to the tall windows overseeing the city. "The city's mending itself bit by bit and sometimes it's as if the wound is still being nicked open. I strive for peace and order. I want the evil purged fully, but that cannot be so, I know."

Zigfried squeezed Pegasus's back to his chest. "Maybe if the entire city were wiped clean, then it can begin anew."

Pegasus chuckled sadly. "That would cost far too many innocent lives and I'd rather handle it slow and careful than fast and messy."

Zigfried hardly thought so. A mess can cleaned up as easily as it's made. The city was filthy in his opinion and in dire need of a purging. How grand would it be to wipe the slate clean and filter in a new kind of people, ones who could rebuild the city and make it what it should; sanitized, welcoming and a happier one that people would flock to live in.

_Knock! Knock! Knock!_

The door opened. Duke stuck his head in. "Sir, they're here. You want me to send 'em in?"

Pegasus's grip tightened over Zigfried's hands. He cleared his throat. "Yes."

Duke vanished. Zigfried felt the tension returning to the shoulders he'd worked to relax. Pegasus whirled around and placed a neat kiss on Zigfried's brow and led him to the furthest side of the office.

"My dear, as much as I adore your opinion, I must insist you allow me and only me to speak."

Zigfried opened his mouth to protest but was stopped by a finger to his lips.

"Please," Max humbly mumbled. "Indulge me this pleasure. I have a few choice words you shouldn't sully your lips with."

Reluctantly, Zigfried nodded and went to sit in a neighboring chair that allowed him a perfect view of everything to come. The door opened minutes later to the invited guests. Atem and Yami walked in. They cast a simultaneous glance in Zigfried's direction, one cool and one bored, before leveling a mutual disdain at Max.

They were gestured to take the two red leather armchairs positioned in front of Pegasus's desk and he waited to collect his mind, his temper and his concerns in a single unit before sitting as well behind his desk. The wall clock ticked, and no one spoke. Pegasus simply looked at the two, whose eyes were trained on opposite ends of the room instead of on him. That, he found particularly interesting since these were never the sort to allow anyone to make them cower.

Still, whatever reason it was, he didn't care to know. There were more pressing issues to attend to.

"I'm sure I don't need say aloud what we're here for," he quietly conveyed. "And yet, it almost seems a lacking punishment not to repeat it. Therefore, I must ask, what do you have to say in your own defense?"

Atem sucked his teeth and rolled his eyes. Yami, didn't bother answering the question.

"I see, so your silence is the only witness to your crime." Pegasus's voice was remote and cruelly cold as a full moon in a wintry night sky. He stood and circled the desk to stand before both men, using every inch of his height. "Make no mistake gentleman, had it not been for authoritative circumstances, I would have you both stomped like the worthless ants you are!"

Atem surged to his feet ready to do battle, but had forgotten why Pegasus was able to order him around the way he could. It wasn't only money, it was in physical strength too. He'd lived longer and had the build of a veteran hidden beneath those name brand clothes. And he used that very strength to cuff Atem by his collar and slammed him back in his chair with a long index finger in his face.

"Hit me, Atem Hassan," Pegasus began slow and crisp. "Hit me and I can assure you that daughter of yours is flown back to Egypt with the rest of your clan!"

Atem's nostrils flared open and closed like exhaling steam. His chest expanded and deflated in five hard deep breaths, eyes blazing with rage. "Do it and see what it gets you," he hissed back.

"Don't test me, boy. As it is, you should know better than to bring an innocent child into the mass of this corrupted city."

"She couldn't stay in that heat," Atem gritted through his teeth. "She needed better care."

"Then have her sent to the alliances in the next state but do not keep her here!" Pegasus snapped back. "Have her gone in three months Atem. Don't make me do the act for you. Honestly you're no better than a spoiled boy. Which is exactly what you both are to me; mere boys playing generals for my toy set." Pegasus paced was predatory and long, going from side to side, head every turning away from either man. He stopped in front of Yami and bent by his side.

Yami didn't satisfy him with a glance or motion.

Pegasus leaned in, lips centimeters from Yami's ear. "You have your weaknesses as well, Sennen. Skeletons don't always stay buried you see because I know that that core of yours is still as raw as the day you were found scurrying about the streets like a bottom feeding urchin. You wouldn't even exist had it not been for connections of others. Anything that's made can be broken." Pegasus listened and like Atem, Yami's breathing steadily became unstable. "Remember 1992, Yami? Police found the burned down home of a family of three but only found two bodies. One man named, Yosho Sennen and a woman named Angelina Sennen—"

Yami shot to his feet but was forced down by his shoulders with hands much too strong.

"How do you think that fire started, Yami?"

"Stop it—"

"Reports say it was possibly started by an electric shortage in the downstairs basement—"

"Let go of me—"

"But what if it were really done by a young boy seeking escape from a household filled with a dick sucking mother and pill pushing father!" Pegasus held the struggling man down, continuing his torture. "They found you, oh yes, but who could think to accuse a seven year old boy with anal tearing and whose system was so infested with drugs, could possibly be the corrupt maniac responsible?"

The adrenaline rush sparked something wicked. "Fuck you!" Yami bellowed. What did this bastard know? Those nights had been cold, the days unpredictable and even worse Yami had always been afraid when he heard his doorknob turn because it usually brought a new kind of pain. "You don't know shit about me!"

He pushed to his feet but Pegasus was ready. He gripped Yami's collar and twisted it hard until a slither of air was all the man could use, as if sucking through a straw. Those memories, those secrets, everything cut deep and sunk in. The truth jabbed him in his gut like a switchblade. Yami felt the fight evaporating from his body, fingers losing their tight clench and the tension in his muscles going slack. He was roughly shoved back in his chair and avoided Zigfried's disgusting smirk and whatever expression was probably on Atem's face.

"I know more then I care to know about you and Atem, Yami. It'd bring me little pleasure to tear you down because my job is to properly promote peace not expose the weakness of a man," Pegasus's voice softened, though the steel hint remained. "That doesn't mean I won't. One thing I will not tolerate is the death of another child because of careless ignorance. It won't happen again, not with me. You'll both be warned, only once, to steer clear of Yugi Muto. If I hear the tiniest gossip that you've harmed him in any way again, so help me, I'll have you both shipped to Alcatraz Federal Penitentiary for every recorded crime I have on file! And you can spend the rest of your miserable lives there until someone else finds some use for your worthless bodies!"

The animosity was suffocating and the tension electrifying, threatening to explode. Atem's eyes flashed mountains and worlds of inner hatred. His nails dug into the skin of his palms, forming crescent marks and his teeth ground out so hard, his jaw ached. Yami's knees shook repeatedly, as his hands cupped over his mouth and his eyes narrowed thin as razor blades. The anger in the room could be felt as well as seen and it coated everyone within it.

"Fuck this." Yami bolted to his feet quickly, knocking the chair he sat in to the ground and stalked out the door. Atem wasn't too far behind, casting a dark demonic glare at both Pegasus and Zigfried before leaving the room.

The front door opened and closed twice before Pegasus finally slumped in his chair and buried his hands in his face. Zigfried made to come near but was held back by an open palm. Getting the picture, he kept his distance and decided to use the quiet to allow the information to marinate in his mind. Yami's past was nothing new but learning about Atem's daughter was something else entirely.

He smirked secretly and leaned away to stare out the window. Purging the city might be easier then he thought.

In the quiet atmosphere, Pegasus sighed and scooted back from his desk to reach inside his drawer. Leafing through the folded documents and other miscellaneous items, he soon found the folded parchment, creased and aged from over six years hidden in his desk. The typed black ink still looked fresh.

_Property of Heba J. Muto._

Pegasus lightly tapped the document in his palm and closed his eyes before returning it back in its hiding place. He wouldn't allow this Yugi boy to suffer the same way. Not if he had anything to say about it.

* * *

His revealed past set Yami's mind into instant replay. He'd tried and tried for so long to keep his guilt locked away until he was buried along with those bastards he called parents. They'd meant nothing to him. They were only surrogate drones who had sex and gave birth to him. The rest was nothing short of a fucking nightmare. Who could imagine waking up in the middle of the night and going to the bathroom to find your mother being fucked on all ends with extra dicks in her hand? How could asking his father to take him to the park, result in discovering the old man up to his neck in two day old bathwater with a needle extruding from his arm?

Why did asking for a bedtime story always cause a beating or cause him to get sold like property for a dime bag? The only friend Yami had was the sun because when it rose, it was the only sign he had that he was still breathing. Yami broke himself away from all of it and made himself stronger. He did it all by himself.

So as he tumbled and buckled like a wandering drunkard out of Pegasus's home, he couldn't understand why the world was so blurry and the watery taste of salt fell down his cheeks. What the fuck was crying going to do? It meant nothing!

Yami wobbled aimlessly, searching for his car. He couldn't see. He was so blind. The world squirmed into colorless squiggles and . . . and "Damn it!" Yami shouted. Why was everything suddenly coming to a head now? Why?!

"Yami?"

Yami gasped, hands making quick work of cleaning off his soggy face. He whipped around and saw Atem standing there, palms open and expression full of pity. It pissed Yami off. He reached behind his back and pulled out his handgun. His eyes shone the way they had when Pegasus finished relating the story of his torture, the feelings that surfaced forth and the haunting devastation that he was forced to relive it again.

Atem held his chin up, and kept his palms out. "He had no right to say that to you—"

Yami wiped at his face again. "Fuck you," he choked. "Fuck you and your damn pity. I don't need it!"

"I wasn't givin' any, Yami." Atem took a step forward. Yami clicked the gun and Atem stopped where he was.

Yami started to slowly back up and for every step he took, Atem matched him, always making sure they had equal space.

"You exist more than being someone's lap dog," Atem quietly said. "I'd know. You think anyone _created_ could raise up the way you did? Hell no. I'd like to see a man as broken as you were, gain so much so quickly."

"What are you getting at saying all of this, Atem? All I've _gained_? In the long haul it wasn't for anything! I'm still haunted with loathing and regret! So what would you know?"

Atem took a step forward. "I know plenty," he carefully said. "Wouldn't I? I was the one who found you. I gave you a reason to keep going, but it was you who found your own existence. I only asked you why that day . . ."

The gun shook. "You . . . why now—"

"Because I'm getting tired of this," Atem finished bitterly. "All of it, everything. For god's sake, Yami aren't you?"

"No," Yami retorted. "Because it's all I know. I can't chance that road again. It hurt," he croaked. "It hurt too much losing him and losing you."

Atem lowered his hands by his sides.

"You were the family I needed. You were everything—damn it, I only lived for you two." Yami whispered, crumbling. "I loved him. I _loved _you. My god and when it was taken away?" Yami shook his head. "Who needs that kind of pain twice? It'd be so easier to kill you and guarantee a future free of that torment."

"Then why didn't you kill when you saw me with Yugi? Huh?" Atem bitterly retorted. "Those shots weren't worth shit, Yami. You can shoot a fly between the eyes and you couldn't land a single hit on me? You shot Yugi but you didn't kill him? And why is that? Because he reminded you of Heba, right? That's the only reason you didn't kill us because you thought you were getting left behind!"

"What about you, Atem?" Yami shouted. "I'm still walking. I'm still breathing. That time in the parking lot. In front of Yugi's house, you had a ton of opportunities. You didn't shoot me because it's all a game to you!"

"I can't kill you, Yami!" Atem's deep voice boomed like the clank of a gong.

Yami's face slowly loss its frown. His gun lowered, but not completely.

Atem chuckled, the tone empty and hallowed. "Yeah, I can't. Yeah it's a game, and when you play the game you try your hardest to keep all the pieces together. I've lost so many pawns to keep the more important pieces alive. I-I. . ." he sighed. "You . . . I want. . . I mean I'm still. . ."

A snort cut off whatever else was sputtering from Atem's lips and when he glanced up he saw Yami backtracking to his car. "Go to hell, Atem," he murmured and when his back hit the driver's side, Yami patted around for the handle and lifted it. "Feed those lies to another fool." He opened and closed the door, crunk up the car and sped off down the pathway. He glanced in the rearview mirror, connecting eyes with Atem's for the entire drive down until the blue blood leader was nothing more than a blending speck in the distance.

Yami didn't believe a word he was saying, not one. Atem had to be lying about everything. He had to be. Nothing he said was true. They, they couldn't be. Yami placed a hand over his heart and tried to will it to stop beating so fast.


	10. Condemnation

**Author's Rant:** Thanks for reading! Please forgive any typos. I won't have time to proofread until after work. Enjoy the next chapter!

_~Side note: Corrects made~_

* * *

**Condemnation**

* * *

Yugi knew a decision was made the moment Coach walked out of the front office and looked at him like he'd just been to a funeral. Yugi held his breath a moment before deciding it was best to get the day over with instead of prolonging the evitable.

As soon as he stepped foot on the school grounds Monday morning, he was bombarded with people for twenty straight minutes asking how long he'd been involved with gangs, if it was true if he'd been fucking with the gang leaders—how the hell that one got out was a mystery to Yugi—and a slew of other rumors so farfetched, Yugi cast a rotten glare toward the idiots who insulted him by asking.

Yugi's savior turned out to be Ryou, who had enough of a soft glare to warn off everyone from bothering Yugi anymore. He didn't have to ask where Tristan was. The brunet swore when he called Yugi last night that if he saw him, he was likely to kick his ass on sight. Tristan refused to listen to whatever excuse Yugi had. He wouldn't accept anymore of Yugi's calls and when Yugi tried to relay indirect messages to his best friend, the middle man, sometimes Duke or Rebecca, would come back with a dark frown or tearful eyes.

He was really mad this time, Yugi realized because Tristan's neighboring desk was vacant in homeroom. During the rest of the day, Tristan never showed. During second, third, fourth, lunchtime and P.E., the brunet never arrived. Yugi readjusted in his seat during chemistry to ease some of the tension in his arm when he heard a distinct screech come from outside. Puzzled, he lifted an eyebrow and looked around the classroom. Some of the students had their heads down, some were carrying conversation amongst themselves and a few were actually paying attention to today's lecture. Was he the only one that heard that?

_Screech! _

There it was again. Yugi leaned back his chair and peered outside the glass pane. There were two cars outside, one platinum silver 2003 Acura and the other a yellow 2007 mustang curved around each other and both with donut style tire tracks in their wake. Yugi curiously tapped his pen against his bottom lip, narrowing his eyes to get a better focus on what was going on.

A man with long lavender hair stepped out of the Acura a moment later, wearing in a plain purple dress shirt and pressed cream slacks. The door to the mustang opened up to a pair of men Yugi had never seen before, but the way they stalked over to the richly dressed man, spoke plenty of what kind of people they were. That alone should've gave Yugi pause, but what shook him was how they were both wearing different colors.

Never, ever in his entire life had he ever seen an RES step near a BEA without there being gunfire involved. And here were the men from different ends of the city, casually chatting it up and talking with this guy as if they did it all the time. They came out of the same car. But why? Yugi wished he could be a fly near their mouths for a second just to listen on whatever they were talking about. It looked shady. And even shadier when cash and weapons were exchanged.

Yugi spotted an MK47 and several M16s pulled from the back of the Acura and handed over to the gang members. A trade? Done across the street from a high school? Yugi figured these guys to be incredibly bold or foolish. Domino City High School was in the dead center of Medium grounds.

Grimly thinning his lips, Yugi shook his head and turned away. Like it or not, there wasn't a thing he could do. Being a resident of the Red Eye's Territory placed him under a delicately written code on the streets. He couldn't utter a whisper without rumors circulating and eventually falling back on him.

He gripped his pen—immediately regretting it after the strain flexed his tender muscles—and leaned back quietly to continue his observation. There was another car out there this time. He hadn't heard it come up but . . . something about it was very vaguely familiar. It had a faded solid black exterior and from the looks of it, could've been either 2006 or '07.

It was . . . . It was a Tahoe. _A 2007 Black Tahoe Z71. _Yugi took in a long breath and trapped the air in his chest. He quickly glanced away and forced his mind to concentrate on the school work. He refused to believe that that was the same car. Dozens of people drove around in black Tahoe's these days. The car was especially common in the urban areas and the school distinct wasn't too far from the surrounding neighborhoods.

Yugi told himself to remain calm and make sense of what the teacher was lecturing about instead of assuming that that was the very same car that Heba was last seen getting into.

By the time Yugi decided to take one last glance, none of the cars were outside. All of them were gone. His purple eyes widened, darting from each end of the street, seeing nothing but empty spaces. His fingers lightly drummed over the healing bullet wound in thought. Whatever took place outside looked every bit as traitorous as a knight cutting the strings of his ally's bows.

Red and blue never mixed.

Yugi suddenly snorted at himself and shook his head. So why should he care what was going on? Let the gangs do as they wanted. He'd had his fill of dealing with them for one life time, thank you very much. If— and shame on him for thinking so negatively—it was something horrible and dangerous, whatever consequences came upon Atem and Yami, were too good for them.

Yugi could never bring himself to face the two devils again. They'd done more than their fair share of proving just how prideful, arrogant, terrible, dangerous and evil they could be. "They didn't even let me explain," Yugi growled through clenched teeth. After two weeks of not seeing either gang leader, Yugi still had a terribly sour taste in his mouth for the pair. How was he supposed to know Yami would be there? Had Atem ever considered that since Yugi lived in Red Eye lands that he could've possibly been seeing a Red Eye?

No-no that was stupid. Of course, Yugi hadn't been dating a red blood. There were too many times where he'd stressed how much he despised gangs. But still!

Chemistry period ended twenty minutes later. Yugi gathered his books with a little help from a couple of students who were always eager to lean the school's "star" a helping hand. The final portion of the day was what he dreaded most of all. Walking down the marble coated hallways, hugging as tight as he could to the wall lockers to avoid being trembled, Yugi tried to mentally prepare himself for the speech that'd determined how he'd finish his senior year and the career he'd been wanting since he was in pull-up's.

The journey to the school practice field reminded Yugi of death row. Every step seemed to bring him closer and closer to the moment of truth and when he'd be told his career as a baseball player was over. The doctor had already told him that it'd take at least two months of rest in order to properly heal his arm. The 2013 Major League Baseball First-Year Player Draft was scheduled for June this year. Yugi was one of the nation's highly profiled prospects, the youngest than most of the college students, but lately his skills haven't been advertised due to unfortunate incidents.

Yugi walked slowly down the little decline heading towards the boy's locker room and made a left to the coach's office. He spotted the tall, thickset man sitting at his desk, hand fisted under his chin while watching a recorded practice session from last year's game. The office door was open and the click of Yugi's shoes tore the older man's old green eyes away from the little television. Coach Davis grabbed his remote and turned off the television, eyes dipping to the floor after seeing the faraway look in his player's eyes.

Yugi recognized that look. Guilt. He was an old friend of it. "You wanted to see me, Coach?"

"Yes, come in," Coach Davis dully said, running a wrinkled hand through his curly gray hair. He looked drained, as if he'd been the one been listening to Yugi's chemistry teacher. "Close the door." He waved dismissively, still not meeting Yugi's eyes.

That wasn't a good sign. Yugi sighed, shutting the door and locking it for extra measure. He didn't see the point. If any of the team walked through the hall, they'd see Yugi and Coach Davis talking through the office window. The soundproof room wouldn't be able to disguise the remorse on the coach's face or the half-hooded sadness on Yugi's face.

Coach Davis finally built up enough bravery to look his star player in the face and thinly pressed his lips together, "This wasn't an easy decision, Muto. Had it been up to me, you know I would've tried to keep you on."

"I know," Yugi softly agreed. "It can't be helped."

Coach's hand found a pen to lightly tip tap on the desk, perhaps as a tool to dissolve the tense silence fluttering in his office. He looked off to a corner in his office, chipping with old paint that used to be a pristine white, turned cream. Cobwebs hung in tatters in the corners of the room.

"We can't risk you injuring yourself any further. Anything strenuous could put you in harm's way," Coach Davis felt the need to explain further, though his tone couldn't hold the sternness to support it. "Even if you don't play in the finals, you can still attend. The team will need your support more than anything. Think you can do that for us? Atlanta wouldn't the same without that cheesy smile."

Yugi chuckled dully, wishing he could suck in the Coach's attempt to make him laugh. He couldn't fake a smile if he tried. The blow of being benched, punched an imaginary hole in his gut.

"Yugi, son." Coach leaned forward on his desk, his old face set in a scowl. "You know if there were the slightest chance I could change things—"

"I know, Coach. It's not your fault. If I'd been more careful, you and the team wouldn't be in this predicament." Yugi gave a small shrug. "I'm old enough to accept the consequences of my actions. Though it sucks trying to be an adult about this situation," he chuckled, trying for a little humor.

Coach Davis's thin lips tugged on the sides. "This doesn't put you outta the competition completely, Muto. The draft's not for another few months. You'll have plenty of time by then to impress the recruiters."

That little bit did lighten Yugi's mood a little. Just a little. "So, when are we supposed to leave for Atlanta?"

"Not until four days before the finals." Coach settled back in his leather seat, interlacing his fingers over his protruding belly. "You think you'll still wanna go?"

"Of course!" Yugi perked up. "Even if I'm all banged up, what kind of captain would I be if I weren't there to support my teammates?"

Coach Davis winked, a small sigh of relief deflating his stomach. "That's being a good sport, Muto. Keep that kind of spirit, and the MLA's gonna demand you be placed on the best team."

Yugi smiled small. "Thanks Coach Davis." He stood, collecting his backpack. "Was there anything else?"

"Besides telling Taylor he's running twenty laps tomorrow for being MIA? Nope, go home and rest up. Be ready to attend next practice. Just because your arm's screwed doesn't excuse you from participation."

"Duh, Coach," Yugi said with a bigger smile. "You know I'm there. I'll see ya tomorrow!"

Coach Davis gave a flat wave and flicked his television back on to survey the practice from the previous seasons. Yugi closed the door behind himself, grinning from ear to ear. It was a wonder he could even crack a smile considering how he'd been terribly worried about not being able to partake in the game. He'd still get to go. That counted for something.

With a pep in his step, Yugi went out the opposite direction leading to the side of the school that opened to the school parking lot. Most of the students had already left the premises along with a few teachers. Yugi cradled his arm tenderly as he squeezed through a few cars before stepping onto the sidewalk. Once he reached the corner he hesitated.

Out of the corner of his eye, Yugi spied the City Garden's a few blocks down. He missed going near the park to visit the children. He hadn't seen a single one in weeks. He hated avoiding them but he feared running into Kisara, the poor thing. A part him wanted to check and see how she was doing, but he couldn't risk running into her father.

Yugi wasn't afraid of what the man might do, it was more like Yugi was nervous about how he'd react if he saw Atem. Yami, Yugi knew he wouldn't see again and he was glad of it. Neither of the bastards deserved a small glance from him.

Yugi was placed in an intense sense of déjà vu when a dark red car pulled up to the edge of the corner, humming softly. He was put on alert when the window came down and he saw Tristan's stoic face glaring at him with tough, brown eyes.

"Well?" he snapped impatiently, reaching over to open the passenger side door. "Get in already!"

Yugi snapped to attention and shuffled over. He tossed his book bag in the backseat and pulled on his seatbelt. The car nearly soared off the ground when Tristan pulled away from the curb. From how fast, reckless and aimless Tristan was driving, Yugi momentarily contemplated jumping out of the car in case his best friend was going to try a Grand Theft Auto. What were the chances of him surviving if he jumped out now while the car was going about sixty five in a forty five speed zone?

"You lied to me." The flat, steely statement startled Yugi and caused something to shrivel guiltily inside his chest. He secretly managed to keep from dropping his head and glancing out the window. It didn't matter anyway. Tristan preferred staring out at the bypassing scenery. "I asked you a million times. I warned you not to mess around with those guys, and look what it got you?"

It was safe to say Tristan wasn't angry, Yugi quietly deduced. Nope, he was downright pissed.

"Yeah," Yugi admitted, his voice hoarse. Clearing his throat, he tried again a little stronger. "I know. I'm sorry."

When they came to a stop light, Tristan did look at him this time. Yugi should've been able to meet those dark brown eyes head on, but it was different than facing someone you hated or a casual associate. Seeing those eyes meant facing the betrayal and shadowy disappointment, and he just wasn't ready for that. The guilt was already making itself at home in Yugi's head.

The light changed to green. Tristan faced the road, shaking his head and took off. He went pass Yugi's address several times, clearly indicating that the talk would be had or neither of them were going home any time soon. The ball was in Yugi's court this time. _Where do I even begin_? He thought grimly, mouth compressed in a hard line.

"I could apologize a thousand times, but it won't change how stupid I was," Yugi started off. "I messed up. You told me not to do it. And, I did it anyway. Why? I wish I knew. There were so many times I wish I could've taken it all back." Yugi shook his head. "No amount of wishin' is gonna replace the past. I went into this with a soft heart and an even softer head."

A rough snort came from the side. Well, at least Tristan was listening.

"I don't know why I got involved with them. With Yami, I." Yugi scowled. "I dunno. I felt like I connected with him that one time we spoke. And Atem, it was so strange. I thought I could talk to this guy forever. His daughter's an incredible child, so bright and smart . . . and it was all ruined over a misunderstanding." Yugi sighed, leaning back in his seat. "Did you know the two of them knew Heba when he was alive?"

A beat of silence passed before Tristan grunted, "No, I didn't. But how could I when you shut me out of everything?"

Yeah, Yugi deserved that blow. He shimmed up his seat and explained. "I don't know the full details. From what little they told me, they made him out to be the bad buy. Like Heba was the worst kind of person."

"_That_ coming from some single dad and a psychotic thug?" Tristan bitterly bit off. "Ain't that the pot calling the kettle black?"

Oh, right. Tristan didn't know. "They're both thugs," Yugi confessed, knowing he'd best get it all out in the open. He took a deep breath and said it all in one swoosh, "Atem's the leader of the Blue Eye Aces."

"What the fuck?!"

Yugi sunk in his seat when the car' speed escalated five times above the speed limit and whipped around on two wheels, pulling in a gas station off the corner of the city. Tristan snapped his car in park and turned his entire torso to face Yugi with all his rage.

"Yugi _fuckin'_ Muto, do you have any idea how lucky you are to be alive?" Tristan was so pissed he couldn't see straight. His fingers tightly grasped the air, wishing he could use them on Yugi's throat. "You were messin' around with the leaders of both gangs? Jesus!"

Yugi slinked back from the furious outburst, surprised and angry. "I didn't know Atem was the T.O.G. until that night, Tristan! Damn it, how many times am I gonna have to explain this to everyone? You're just as thick headed as they are!"

"_You_ are the biggest hypocrite on the face of this planet!" Tristan raged back. "My head's thick? You have the mentality of a mule, twice as thick and just as strong. What will it take for you to understand, when we tell you not to do something, Yugi, it's for your own good?"

"I can take care of myself!"

"No, you can't!" Tristan yelled. "We aren't bullies trying to keep you from having fun. We're protecting you. In this kind of city, all we can do is watch each other's back. What will it take, Yugi, huh? For you to get killed? Is that when you wanna learn? When you have all of us crying over your fucking grave and Gramps left to defend himself?!"

Yugi saw the shift of something black swish behind Tristan's back and dipped by the car. It moved too fast to react, too fast to counter. Yugi nervously spun around towards the fiend, lifting his hand to lock the door but the window glass shattered, raining shards inside. A long arm looped around his neck and hooked him in place. Yugi shrieked, recoiling in agony as a switchblade pressed under his jaw.

"Don't move," the deep voiced villain said. "Make a sound and I spill his shit all over the ground."

Neither of the boys moved. Yugi, especially remained calm, wondering how many times he'd be on the wrong end of a gun before he finally met his end.

"Leave your wallets and the keys," the thief roughly ordered. "Hurry up!"

Yugi nodded timidly, reaching inside his pocket for his wallet. There wasn't a bill in there but he hoped the couple of debit cards inside would suffice. He gasped painfully when the blade inched a little too high, cutting into the meat of his neck.

In a split second while the gunman was taking Yugi's wallet, Tristan's hand vanished below his seat and came back with a solid black 9mm magnum. His thumb folded the hammer back. "Yeah, you know what this is," Tristan said cold and harsh when the thief caught a glimpse of the weapon in hand. "Let 'em go and back up slowly. _Real slow_." He emphasized with a wag of his gun.

"Cool, cool man. I got'cha." The thief calmly loosened his grip on Yugi's neck and stepped back. Tristan's barrel followed the man up to the point where he sprinted down the street, disappearing into the ally shadows.

Yugi grasped his neck. The cut was shallow. That was close and happened so fast. By the time Yugi could react it was too late. But more importantly, when had Tristan—Yugi blinked when he heard a dark shudder and gasp come from the driver's side. Tristan was hunched over with his gun his hand, shaking.

"Tristan," Yugi softly called.

"You see what I mean?" Tristan's voice shook like a bag of marbles. "This kind of shit is what happens! I can't believe I had to pull this out!"

"When . . . when did you get that?"

"The same night we got jumped at the Boom." Tristan roughly put the gun back under his seat, took his car out of park and ripped out of the parking lot. His entire body was shaking, reflexes sharpened so keen, he twitched at every flicking street light and random civilian.

The journey to Kame's Shop came to an end. Tristan pushed the gearshift into park and laid his forehead against the steering wheel. Sudden quakes traveled straight through his skin and to the bone. Yugi's palms became moist, his heart thumping a million miles an hour. The adrenaline rush was finally dying down and with reality setting in, Yugi joined in Tristan's contagious fears.

Yugi choked. "I'm sorry," he said. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry." Those last apologetic words were stuffed against cotton and the curve of Tristan's neck and Yugi was glad. He could use his best friend's suffocating hug right now more than anything. Yugi didn't mind the creeping soreness on his arm. He slipped his stronger arm around Tristan's ribcage and hugged him back just as hard.

They stayed that way for a long time. The embrace never wavered, neither knew who should let go first but when they did and stared at each other, they held eye contact. Yugi turned a little red around the cheeks and dropped his brow on Tristan's mouth.

"This wouldn't be so awkward if you were gay," he said airily. Yugi's shoulders rose and fell. "Why can't I find someone like you? Life would be so much easier to deal with."

"Naw, you don't want a guy like me," Tristan rubbed small, comfortable circles on Yugi's back. "I'm the big brother type. You need somebody who's gonna protect ya when I can't." Tristan pulled away, cupping the top of Yugi's head. "Serious talk Yug', please, please, tell me what's going on next time, will ya? Hell, there shouldn't even be a next time. If it looks bad, don't do it. I'm only tryin' to do what's best for the both of us so when we graduate, me, you and the rest of us can blow this joint."

That was the best idea Yugi's heard all day. "I'm with ya, Trist'."

"Good," Tristan ruffled his friend's hair and reached behind for Yugi's book bag. "I'll see you tomorrow, OK?"

"Definitely, coach says you gotta run twenty laps anyway."

Tristan paled. "I might have to call in sick," he muttered, put off.

Yugi laughed, closing the door behind himself. Tristan didn't leave until he was sure Yugi was inside and locked in. Yugi didn't go up to his room until he was sure Tristan was gone down the dirt road. Yugi sighed contently, before pushing away from the door and heading off upstairs. "I'm home Grandpa!" He called.

"Dinner's in the microwave!" Grandpa shouted back. "How was school today?"

"Fine!" Yugi called back.

"Anything interesting happen?"

Yugi paused where he'd been tugging off his socks. His mood dimmed some, then brightened. It was time for a revolution. He refused to allow the bad moments in the past to triumphant over the good. He was going to get over it all and start new. "No, nothing at all."

* * *

"That's stupid! I don't think that's a good reason at all!"

Atem stopped pacing up and down the front of his daughter's bed after that outburst struck a nerve and looked at his child, sitting in the center of her mattress in her frilly pink and yellow pajamas, with a concentrated will and determination on her face. He'd never seen such impressions expressed by his daughter until today. She has been impossible to handle.

_Sensible indeed_. There was no way she'd obtained this sort of behavior from his side of the family. No, all of these outlandish emotions had to have come from her bitch of a mother.

"You better watch that tone, Kisara. Daddy's told you that I don't need to explain myself to a child, especially when I'm sure I'd know what's best!" Atem whirled around to face her and settled an equally harsh glare. "Do you understand?"

By now, this would've been the time Kisara would whimper and work her way up to her father, shyly asking what she could do to be on his good side again. She was rarely reprimanded and that was the problem. She was spoiled. Now, she held her chin high, eyes sharp and presented a powerfully, brazen stare.

"No, I don't," Kisara said, her tone edged with proper disobedience that was probably influenced from her classmates. "You don't know what's best because you can't tell me why I can't play with Yugi. I don't think that's fair, Daddy. If I say I don't wanna eat because I say so, you would be mad."

"Kisara," Atem's tone quietly darkened. "Who is the adult in this room? Who?"

"No one. Grandpoppy says when people can't make up their minds, they don't deserve to be bossy!"

Atem gritted his teeth. Trust his father to install mature lessons in a five year olds 's temper was steadily resting closer and closer off the edge. "Your grandfather isn't here to teach you. I am and what I say goes. Yugi's dangerous."

Kisara stared up at her father with bewildered wonder and disbelief in her bright eyes. Atem's grip on his elbows fastened tighter.

"You're dangerous too," said Kisara in an all knowing voice a five year old had no business possessing. "So are Cousin Marik and Cousin Seth. I hear you say naughty things all the time. So you're a bad man too!"

Atem bristled. "Shut your mouth, right now!"

"No!" Kisara slammed her fist on the bedspread. "I want Yugi! I want Yugi, now!"

"Kisara!" Atem slammed his fist down on the center of the bed. He hadn't known he'd done it until the mattress rebounded off his hand. He could count on one hand how many times he'd ever raised his voice at her. There were even lesser times when he'd responded violently in front of his daughter and would explain why. Kisara backed herself across the bed until she was cornered in the crook where the bed met the wall and angrily looked at her father with burning tears in her eyes, like he was some hideous creature that'd invaded her bedroom.

That outburst stole every ounce of fight in him. Atem slowly backed away from the bed, turned on his heel and said, "Yugi isn't allowed near you and that's my final word on it. We'll not have this discussion again and if you so much as whisper his name, you'll be punished." He left without another word, being mindful not to slam the door.

Atem stood in front of the door for a moment, running his open palms over his eyes. Kisara's whimpers stabbed through her door and right into his chest. He sighed and pushed away to go to his bedroom. He was so weary of all this, till it sickened him. Here, he tells his daughter not to go near Yugi again and for the life of him, can't come up with a plausible reason why. He's dangerous? Hardly. Atem knew the boy couldn't rip a piece of toilet paper let alone, harm another person. What was it really that steered Atem so close to wanting to rip the young man apart at the time?

Jealousy? Anger? Had it really been betrayal? These sort of questions had no business draining him the way they have. All the bullshit going down with the accounts being anonymously withdrawn and the sudden increase in gun trades on the streets, was stressful enough. It was so bizarre. When he'd gone to the Eastern border to infiltrate a warehouse, the whole block had been wiped clean. There wasn't a single scrap of ammo or weaponry in the entire building and Atem knew the job had to be done by someone with some pull; a high roller like himself. Otherwise, how else would they know about a military storage compartment?

Atem sliced the thought process in half. With all the drama going on, his head split between figuring out how he should observe Yugi and old, foolish, stupid, regretful emotions stirring up for Yami, Atem couldn't take much more. He needed rest. For once, he would welcome the chance to sleep.

Atem left the hall and walked inside his dark bedroom, needing no light to guide him to the king sized bed. He toed off his shoes, unbuttoned his shirt and slipped out of his black cargo pants. A moment was all he needed, he sighed inwardly, landing heavily on the bed. It felt so wonderful. How could he not enjoy a peaceful slumber? Atem adjusted his pillows, dropped his head and closed his eyes, sleep claiming him before he could breathe a final sigh.

* * *

It wasn't fair. Her father couldn't give a proper reason because there wasn't any. Kisara numbly gripped her teddy bear to her chest and huffily sat on the edge of the bed, rocking her feet. It'd been so many days since she seen Yugi. He'd probably found new friends now because she hadn't kept her promise of playing with him.

What was she supposed to do now? Yugi had been the first person to talk to her like she was a regular person. Every day after school, the kids would maintain a perfect radius away from her like she'd disease them with her discoloration and bright eyes. Kisara gently moved the sheets back so she could tuck her feet in and laid on her pillow, staring at the animated designs and characters on her wall. The room was mostly made of what she imagined a fun place would be with lots of friends. There were monsters, people, and lots of candy and plenty of swings. One particular drawing on the wall was a blond haired, blue eyed princess who could do magic. She had lots of friends. Kisara wouldn't mind having a similar life.

Kisara's mind wandered into one of those make believe fortresses where no one cared for difference and always occupied with happiness. How could anyone not want such a magical place? She slowly blinked and gave a big sigh. The left side of her face was imprinted with the crinkles from her sheets and pillows when she finally pushed up and hoped off the bed.

Her bedroom seemed too big to sleep alone. She'd go see if Daddy would let her sleep with him. Kisara touched the doorknob, suddenly stopping. No, she couldn't see him. She'd made him mad. Clutching her bear, Kisara back tracked from the door. She didn't want to be alone anymore. Kisara felt scared and small. She wanted Yugi. She wanted his big smile and the perfect way his eyes matched her favorite color.

Yes, that's who she wanted above all else. Kisara's smile returned with a renewed vigor and she grasped the doorknob, turning and pushing forward. She ducked back when a short snore came from down the hall. Kisara softly scurried down the hall, her socked feet a soft pitty pat on the carpet. Peeking in, she saw her father's long, lithe form covering half the bed.

"I'll be back, Daddy," she whispered, afraid of waking him. She was greeted with a snore before she quickly hurried down the hall, through the living room and unlocked the front door.

Now outside in the naked hall, Kisara had to remember how to work the elevator when she made it towards the end. Her daddy would press that button with the triangle, right? She couldn't reach it though. Frowning, Kisara pouted than brightened. "Teddy, you can get it." She held up her bear and pressed his paw to the center.

_Bing!_

The light chimed and the metal doors separated to an empty cart. Kisara walked in and glanced over at the illuminated mechanics. What number was it people pushed to get to the bottom? Kisara pushed the closest one to her height, one, and stepped back. The doors closed and there was a tummy-tickling sensation during the descent that took her straight down. The box took a million years to finally open to the bottom floor.

Kisara peeked out, twisting her neck from side to side. She didn't see anyone in the lobby. She didn't see the security man at the desk either. Daddy always said to talk to him when he wasn't around. But Kisara didn't know where to look for the man. Gulping, she timidly stepped sweeping the whole Victorian décor with mild interest. The black double doors towards the back were her main concern.

Cars swished by every so often. Kisara's feet tinkling as the thought of seeing Yugi began to creep in her internally. She couldn't wait to see him. Kisara retightened her grip on her bear and hurried out to the doors, waited until they opened and went through into the dark, humid air. She stared up and up and up. The sky was so enormous, and there wasn't a moon. Not that it mattered.

She could ask Yugi where the moon went when she found him. "Yugi!" Kisara shouted and started her search for her friend, down the sidewalk, calling his name . . .

* * *

Atem vaulted out of what he thought was a dream when he heard stomping. His first thought process was Kisara banging her fist on his nightstand to wake him up and he'd happily give her a proper spanking for it. Miserably tired, he dragged a hand over his face, smacking some of the tart flavor from his mouth. He looked over to the sound's origin.

A faint white glow hummed by his bedside. Atem lazily reached out his hand to grasp his cell and pressed the side to stop the vibrations. The name read D.O.G. Snorting, Atem slid his thumb over the screen and flopped on his back, scratching his chest. "Yeah?" he groggily answered.

There was a disbelieving pause. _"Were you sleeping?"_

Atem chuckled. "Yep, first time for everything." It was little disorientating to believe himself. The gang leader shifted to look at the digital clock flashing 11:47 p.m. Damn, he'd been out a whole four hours? Shit. What's up Seth?"

"_The crew's leaving for the Billiard tonight. You feel up to a little pool?"_

"Yeah," Atem grunted, surging up to sit upright, open his mouth for a jaw cracking yawn. "Who's down?" He asked getting off the bed. He retrieved his pants and slipped them on, fastening the button.

_"Odion's already saved the usual table. I invited Shada, Marik and Yusei."_

"What about Isis?"

"_She figured you'd need a babysitter."_

Atem nodded. Speaking of babies. He needed to check on his. Atem felt like kicking his own ass for having been asleep so long. He left his bedroom, after grabbing a gray t-shirt and slipped it on before knocking on his daughter's door. Funny, when his knuckles grazed it the door loosely fell open. He could've sworn he'd closed it.

Atem walked into the lit room, eyes picking off everything that didn't resemble his daughter. Atem heard himself sneering in the back of his mind. How many times he had told her to let him know if she had to go to the bathroom or if she was hungry? "Hold on, Seth." Atem clicked off the light and went to the closest bathroom.

He knocked. "Kisara!" No answer. He frowned. Whether she was angry or not, she usually answers. "Oh," he suddenly chuckled knowingly. She'd probably gone asleep on the toilet again. "Baby girl?" Atem called pushing the door open. The lights were off. What the hell? Atem flicked the switch up.

She wasn't in here.

"The fuck—Kisara!" Atem devoured the rest of the way down the hall in three long strides going to the kitchen. He'd caught her sneaking in here for cookies once. She'd been popped on the hand, but he wouldn't put it passed her to try again.

Atem turned on the lights, eyes eating up the whole area in one sweep. He checked the cabinets, the slams getting louder and harder when none of them produced his child. Atem snatched the pantry door open, eyes widening. She wasn't here either.

"Kisara!" he shouted, angrily, deep voice booming like a thunderclap. He didn't get a tiny answer back. "This isn't funny!"

"_Atem, what's going on? What's wrong with Kisara?"_

Atem's head twisted from side to side as he searched the living room. "Nothing, cousin," he answered, half his mind on looking and the other half listening. "Kisara's hiding from me."

"_This late?"_ Seth said, stunned. _"Why isn't she in bed?"_

"She was when I left her. Damn it, Kisara stop playing around!" Atem swore when he found her he'd take a slipper to that behind of hers. He didn't like these games, especially when they took too long. The last place he didn't check was the balcony. Atem hurried to the sliding glass doors and pulled them apart, stepping out into the breezy humidity and the sounds of the street life below. Below the lounge chairs, behind the mini bar, around the curve of the railing and near the dipping decline by the edge, he still didn't see her.

Atem's throat clogged. "Kisara?" his voice lost all edge. "Baby girl, you win. Daddy's done. You can come out." He didn't give a damn if she was playing. He just wanted her to come out.

"_Did you find her?"_ Seth called over the phone. _"Answer me, cousin!" _

Atem frantically went through the suite again, panic lightly threading through his chest. All the bedrooms were empty. The hallway closet was bare. The tub was clean. "Kisara!" Atem ran into the living room, pushing the couches from the walls, leaning down to flip them over and weaving around to find the smallest crevices he may have overlooked.

Hysteria shimmered in Atem's ears. _'She's not here, she's not here.'_ Those were the words that exploded in Atem ears like fireworks as he plopped down hard on the floor, fingers tangling in his hair. His breathing erratically rose and filled his chest. He didn't know why, it could've been faith, but for some reason, Atem's eyes fearfully glanced towards the front door.

It was jarred at least an inch from the frame. Atem forced his feet to take him there and grasped the doorknob. '_It's your fault. You left her alone. She could be anywhere.'_ Though he truly prayed she was only sitting outside, clutching her bear. He could deal with that. Atem wouldn't be upset. So long as she was safe, he'd scold her and make sure she was safe.

When he opened the door, he held his breath and stepped out. From end to end, he looked. No one, there was no one out here. _'It's your fault. You left her alone. She could be anywhere_.' The words burst in his mind like fireworks, again, and again and again.

"_Cousin! Atem!" Seth repeatedly shouted over the phone. "Where is Kisara?!"_

Atem's back bumped the wall. His grip on the phone was limp. He couldn't find her. She was missing.

"_Atem, where is she?" _

In a hypnotic trance, Atem slid down the wall until he hit the floor, eyes distant and faded. She was gone. "I don't know. . ." he quietly confessed, the worst confession he could ever admit too.

* * *

Yugi jolted awake to an obsessive knocker, banging on the door. "Ouch, ouch, ouch," he hissed. He'd fallen asleep on his arm again. Why did he have to get shot in _that_ arm?

_Knock! Knock! Knock! _

Yawning, Yugi sniffled, scratching his stomach before swinging his legs over the edge of the bed, eyes heavy. What time was it? He looked over and saw 1:14. Yugi frowned. As in the A.M.? Who the hell could be here this time of night?

"Yugi! Yugi, open the door!"

Yugi didn't how he managed to move so quickly to the window with the bed sheets wrapped around his hips like a toga, but he was scrambling to the window, face pressed flat on the cool surface. So many, many, many things happen, that he couldn't believe he'd done it while sleep.

First, he wasn't sure if it was the fatigue making him delusional, or if standing in front of Kame's Shop was the last person on earth he wanted to see.

Second, he had to keep from gnawing his bottom lip off because the longer he stared, the more he was certain that the mirage was actually Atem.

Third, when he pulled on a black hoodie and a pair of yellow plaid pajamas, he remembered to grab his baseball bat and left the room.

Fourth, because Yugi guaranteed there wouldn't be a repeat of what happened last time, it took him a long time to convince his grandfather to stay in his room.

Finally, when Yugi crossed the threshold leading to the front door that barricade him from Atem, he had to remember which swing would knock off the bastard's head if he tried anything stupid.

_Knock! Knock! Knock! _

"Yugi, please!"

That frantic tone, almost, _almost_ made Yugi's anger slip off. He yanked the door open. Atem tried to push his way inside, but Yugi had his bat ready, and took a quick swing. Atem noticed it a second early and jumped back, stunned.

"Yugi—"

"Why the hell are you on my property?" Yugi took another swing with his arm, missing again. He closed the door and waved his bat in the air, stalking toward the gang leader. "Get outta here!"

"Yugi, I can't. I need your help!"

"Fuck you!" Yugi swung around like a mad man, wildly thrusting the bat in powerful curves that promised a broken bone.

Atem became frantic, dipping and leaping backwards. "Yugi, listen please, it's Kisara," his voice shook.

Yugi paused, bat mid swing, and eyes wide. "Kisara?"

Atem couldn't nod, couldn't see, and couldn't stand straight. It was like a rip current was navigating through his body. "She's gone, she's missing, I-I don't know where she went or how long she's been gone. Before I went to sleep, she was there, but when I woke up I couldn't find her. She's angry with me I know but, oh fuck, Yugi, I can't. I-I-I don't know where to look. I don't know what I'm gonna do. . ." Atem was a babbling wreck, repeating what he'd already said a thousand times over as if he'd forgotten Yugi was the audience.

Momentarily, all of Yugi's animosity toward the worried father was forgotten. His mind was occupied with Kisara. The little girl was missing? Now? In the middle of the night? This city was dangerous. Yugi's eyes followed the fidgety twitch of Atem's fingers, the clumsy balance in his stride and the way his eyes would jerk to a random place as if he'd just heard a child's voice.

Closing and opening his eyes, Yugi's grip on his bat slacked. He was so knee deep in his rage he couldn't think straight. For hours he'd praised himself on the desire to move on from what's happened. The tenderness in his arm still inflamed and how many times during the night had he cursed ever meeting Yami and Atem? Now one of them was here before him, on edge and damn near broken with anxiety.

Yugi felt as cold as the day he'd first open his eyes in the hospital.

"She could be anywhere, scared, or cold. I don't know if she's hungry, I fed her but what if she gets hungry again? How will she go to the bathroom, she's afraid of the dark, she can't sleep without her nightlight-"

"That sounds like a personal problem."

Atem's gaze blistered like an inferno. "What?" he sharply hissed.

Yugi shifted his weight to the other foot, weakly swaying his bat. "You heard me. That's your problem. I'm not gonna help you."

"Yugi," Atem's voice hitched an octave above monotone. "Do you hear yourself? That's my child out there lost in God knows where!"

"Your child, Atem, not mine!" Yugi growled. "You said it yourself, I'm a danger, aren't I?"

Atem's outraged gasp and grabbling hands, didn't faze Yugi a single bit. His mouth tasted bitter from the words leaving his tongue and his throat swallowed a ball of sand.

"Yugi, please, don't," Atem chuckled humorlessly, "don't do this. Whatever kind of animosity you got against me, don't take it out on my daughter. I need her," he shakily added after a dry swallow.

Yugi swirled on his heel, presenting his back. "I don't have any obligations to you or her. If something happens, it'll be on your conscious, not mine." He shrugged. "I'm going to bed. Get the fuck off my land before I call the cops or better yet," Yugi looked over his shoulder, eyes hooded and dark. "Maybe I'll just make a fuss so the red bloods can do the job for me."

Atem stared at the youth's back.

Yugi felt that gaze and wouldn't be weakened by it. The desperation burned and the righteousness he knew was buried inside, churned Yugi's stomach. His fist clenched.

"Yugi!"

There was a sudden thump on the ground. Yugi's hand was on the doorknob when he looked back. His mouth fell open. A short intake of breath, came from Yugi's lips. Then he lifted his chin and looked down upon the man who was groveling on his hands and knees, head bowed like a peasant begging for scraps from the emperor.

Yugi was quiet, a thickness pouring a suffocating bowl of pity in his chest. How the mighty have fallen indeed.

"She's my life, Yugi," said Atem, lips only a kiss away from the dirt. "I'm begging you. I'm _begging_. Please, help me find her. She calls for you every night. She searches for you every day after school. You can reach her in a way I can't, so please." Atem breathing quaked. "Please, please, please!"

Yugi still said nothing. He finally managed to overcome his own shock, and opened the door. "Get the fuck off my lawn," he quietly warned before walking inside and dead bolting the door. His back pressed against the hardwood surface, head thumping backwards as he stared at the ceiling.

_This wasn't his problem. This wasn't his problem. _

* * *

So why was he standing outside the Grove, alone, risking his life to knock on the door of the man who shot him?

This was stupid.

Walking out here in the middle of the damn night. How fucking reckless and he'd told himself a thousand times just hours ago that he was going to turn over a new leaf. Yugi gulped, fingers gripping angrily around the handle of his bat. Why was he submerging himself deep in someone else's problems? Yugi had every right to ignore Atem's pleas and live on peacefully.

But what kind of person would he be if he left an innocent child out wandering the streets? Yugi didn't have to guess about whether or not Kisara was asking for him. That much he knew was truth. She'd asked Yugi to be her friend the first and that priceless gift sparkled in her eyes like she'd been given a world of sweets.

"Damn." Yugi swore as soon as this was over he was definitely going to ignore them. "Hey!" Yugi knocked harder on the door. He didn't know if the man was even here. But it would help. All Yugi had to do was tell Yami what was going on, if he was even here, and from there it'd be up to the him whether he helped.

Yugi's knocked echoed throughout the entire block. It was a wonder no one woke up to come bash his in head. From what he remembered last time, the whole neighborhood was swarming with runners. Now there wasn't a single one—

The door was thrown open.

Yugi told his body not to panic and forced himself not to tremble under the lock-on gaze centered on his face. Recognition streamed on Yami's face like he'd been burned. Seeing him there, wearing nothing but some red sweatpants and a sleeveless white shirt, he looked even more ominous.

Yami pinched the bridge of his nose, a sigh escaping his lips. "Yugi—"

"Atem's daughter is missing," Yugi interrupted, voice low, struggling with the need to snap. "He can't find her. Can you help?"

Yami paled. Kisara was. . . . She's missing. . . "Damn."

* * *

**If anyone is interested, I have another Mobiumshipping story that started today under the name Celestial Congo. It'll be finished roughly around the same time as Fragile. **


	11. Turmoil

**Author's Rant:** Thanks for reading! Enjoy! Please excuse mistakes. I will correct them as soon as I come home.

_~Side note: Corrections made~_

* * *

**Turmoil**

* * *

The inside of East Domino City's '_Royal Flush Gentleman's Association'_ was buzzing with the cavalier elegancy and refinement of the humbly wealthy, most of whom were discreet and soft with their conversations. Those who considered public associating to be dull and lacking any entertainment, chose the more private sanctuary of the lounge area, normally reserved for the high rollers.

Maximillion Pegasus was one such man, carrying an amused debate with an acquaintance about the possible hidden controversies amongst rivaling companies. His pristine white Armani blazer was folded over the arm of the leather couch while he nursed a glass Merlot red wine. His arm was possessively wrapped around Zigfried's waistline, occasionally slipping his fingers beneath the lining of Zigfried's tan cream and white pin striped Vanquish three piece suit, and tease his fingers where the hem of his shirt was tucked in his pants.

The intimate touches were easy to ignore without distractions but it was when Zigfried was addressed with a question or asked for his opinion on something that Max would decide to play with his hip. In the dimly lit lounge room, flickering neon cobalt, yellow and white orbs, Zigfried quietly situated himself as close to Pegasus's side as possible until an impulsive vibration quaked between the pair.

That could only be a personal business call. No one else was fool-crazy enough to call Max, knowing he was either mingling with clients or Zigfried.

Zigfried, disappointed that their moment was interrupted, shifted a couple of steps away, crossing one long arm around his waist. "You may as well answer it, Max. We'll never have peace until you do."

Pegasus attempted to steer his lover back in his arms, but the intimacy was forfeited because of the constant buzz of his cell phone. The small spell between them was shattered and any hopes of a blissful evening with his lover.

With a long sigh, Pegasus angrily touched his answer button to accept the call. "What?!" he bitterly snarled at whoever it was because as far as he was concerned, the idiot deserved his rage.

Not wanting to bother with the issue at hand, Zigfried entertained himself with light discussions with the other people within the lounge. His hand reached up to pluck a glass of white wine from a bypassing waiter and took a small sip. He couldn't resist the desire to keep his bright eyes from flicking to the side at Pegasus's body language. Zigfried was able to notice gradual changes in Pegasus's demeanor.

It became more apparent by the haunting glare in his eyes and the surfacing red blotches on his face, emerging from his collar like a volcanic eruption.

"She's what?!" Pegasus exclaimed. His sudden theatrics drew the attention of everyone in the room as the millionaire Medium leader started to pace from one side of the room to the other. "For how long?" Pegasus shot a dark, anxious glance at Zigfried and grimly thinned his lips. "We'll do what we can."

He was speaking loosely, Zigfried realized. It _was_ serious then.

"No, I'll handle it. No one else is to know. Keep me posted." Pegasus stalked back to Zigfried in long legged strides, and grabbed the man by his wrist, jerking him up from the couch. "So sorry to cut our discussion short gentlemen, but duty calls." Without another word, the white haired man left with Zigfried tugged close behind, urgently walking towards the exit.

"Mon amie, you move too quickly!" Zigfried dug his heels into the ground, finding it fruitless when Pegasus overpowered him and pulled harder. "Max, let go. You're hurting me!"

The lavender haired man refused to budge another inch and once more tried to anchor himself in place with his heels and pulled in the opposite direction. Again, it was in vein. Zigfried tried yanking his arm free, but the attempt left his wrist burning from the callous friction. He would've slapped his lover across the face, but seeing the tight clench of his jaw, he thought better of it and became less resistant.

Their limousine pulled in front of the gentleman's club. Pegasus didn't wait for the driver to open their car door. Zigfried's cries renewed when he was impolitely forced inside the car like a convict and forced to the furthest end of the backseat. Indignant that he was being treated with little regard, Zigfried opened his mouth.

"Not a word!" Pegasus snapped, retrieving of his phone and pressing in a number.

Zigfried took a moment to comprehend his lover's sudden personality switch. This wasn't like Max. His wrist stung and when he lifted it up to examine the damage, saw the faint redness. Max had only ever shown his aggressive side during sex or in private affairs, but was never so recklessly as to show it in public. It wasn't just Zigfried's limb that was hurting but his pride. Being dragged out and slung in a vehicle like some street hoe prodigy was beyond disrespectful. _What had he done to warrant this kind of behavior?_ he pondered while gently caressing the tender flesh.

Scenarios raced in Zigfried's brain like an old slideshow movie. A few in particularly stuck out the most, such as certain jobs he'd been doing on the side and it made him wonder if this punishing drag had been because Pegasus had found out. That would be absurd. Zigfried, being Max's one and only lover, had access to as many connections as he did, therefore eliminating any possible witnesses claiming they saw him make smalltime deals with the rivaling gangs.

If that were the case, Zigfried already had several lies embedded on his tongue to guarantee his innocence and several well placed alibis that could easily be proved. Video surveillances could be altered by Photoshop to put him in the exact locations he claimed without fail. There were plenty of low life computer hackers willing to make a quick buck—

"Deputy Chief Zane Truesdale," Pegasus crisply ordered to the operator.

"_Yes sir, one moment please."_

Max leaned back on the plush, black seat and crossed his left ankle over his right knee, while drumming his fingers impatiently over his kneecap. Signs of anxiety, impatience and annoyance, all foreign expressions on Pegasus face, drew Zigfried in with an open ear because whatever was able to rattle his lover this much, had to be worth listening too.

A click and shuffle brushed over the phone before a gruff voice answered. "_Deputy Chief Truesdale speaking."_

"Zane."

"_Max? This is unexpected and well passed your curfew." _A small pause. "_What can I do for you?"_

"I have a signal 8-22."

_Signal 8-22? _Zigfried wondered silently. That was the Domino City Police Department's signal code for a missing child.

A sigh resonated off the phone like a punctured balloon. "_So does the rest of the city, Max. I've got a hundred and sixteen kids missing and most of them are probably dead in a ditch or being molested as we speak. So whose is it this time? One of those low lives that can't keep a leash on their brats?"_

Pegasus massaged the bridge of his nose, feeling the pinches of a headache move in. "No commoner this time around, Truesdale. I need a _private _investigation, as low key as humanly possible. This is crucial."

_"Ah, so it's one of _those _searches. Nonetheless, that's a lot of legwork for one kid, Pegasus, but I'll bite. Give me a description and name."_

"Five years old, thirty-seven inches tall, weighs twenty nine pounds, fair to pale skin complexion, blue eyes, and long white hair. Her name Kisara. Kisara K-I-S-A-R-A Marie Hassan."

"_Hassan, Hassan, Hassan,"_ Zane's repeated to himself, trying to pinpoint the familiarity of the surname. Tiny clicks started popping in his head. _"She's not one of the blue blood's kid, is she?"_

This was the part Pegasus dreaded informing the Deputy Chief of. "She's Atem's daughter."

Before another second could pass, Zane's voice boomed from the receiver heatedly. _"That bloodthirsty maniac has a child? Since when?"_ Zane propped back in his leather chair, rummaging through his desk cabinets. "_I've got a file on every leaders' child in my desk. She's not one of them."_ To be completely sure he hadn't overlooked it, Zane thumbed through several crimson and royal folders, all of them containing extensive information on the highest leaders' children. There wasn't a single detail missed; it was all there, from their allergies to their favorite pastimes. "_No, I don't have a single Kisara Hassan in here. Why is that?" _

"She's not in the files because that name doesn't need any more publicity than what's already advertised to the public."

"_It's _my_ business to keep up with every bomb fuse residing in this city, Pegasus!" _Zane scathingly sneered. _"None of their children or significant others are allowed within a two thousand mile radius of Domino City's borders. That was what we agreed on six years ago. So explain to me why this child is the exception to that contract?" _He growled after finding no recorded background on this 'Kisara Hassan'.

Pegasus scowled at the disrespectful tone. "Need I stress how delicate this situation is, Zane?" he snippily retorted. "Instead of whining like a struck mongrel, set about ordering a search squad to comb this city down to the tiniest corner. No harm needs to come to this child. You understand? We need to find her before there's a cause to evacuate the city!"

"_You don't have to tell me how _delicate _this is,"_ Zane returned just as heatedly. "_If you weren't busy strutting like you're God, I would've had someone stationed outside Atem's home! I've already called for the units of second, third and six precinct's to start the search in their sectors. Any more than that and the city's likely to get suspicious."_

Pegasus nodded, a little ease setting in his shoulders. "Thank you. The faster we find this child, the sooner we can rest easier."

Zane snorted across the phone. _"Don't bet on it, Pegasus. If one of my men find that child first, I'm having her exiled from the city and anyone who tries to bring her back will be thrown in the Metro Jail for aggravated child abuse and endangerment. That includes you!"_

The phone hung up. Pegasus stared ahead, mind riveting at the threat and his teeth grinding like sandpaper. He leaned his head back against the headrest, dragging a tired hand over his perspiring face. He didn't have much to fear from Zane's threats, but it was more of the city's health he was concerned for. If they didn't find this child by sunrise, he feared the worse.

The city couldn't go through that kind of mass destruction again.

The silence in the car was broken in light intervals by a cultural satin voice, whispering instructions to a phone. Pegasus, leaned forward, eyes peeled and ears sharpened to listen in on what his lover was relaying. Pegasus heard a replica description of Kisara mentioned and who was on the lookout for her, but he couldn't quite pinpoint whose voice Zigfried was talking too.

Zigfried found his sore wrist suddenly back in that boiling vise-like grip and twisted. He cried out, stunned and turned wide eyes to face his punisher. The cell was snatched from his grasp and pressed to Pegasus's ear.

"Who is this?"

_Click._

They hung up. Pegasus's eyes alighted with so much rage, the glare of the street lights seemed to give him an eerie glint. The fact that someone would dare to hang up in his face, not willing to respond back with little regard for who he was, said plenty.

"Who was this?" he questioned, grip intensifying.

Zigfried pulled at his captured limb angrily and winched when Pegasus tightened his hold. "It was no one of importance. I heard you say Atem's daughter was missing. I called for more—"

"Who did you call?!" Pegasus nearly shouted. "I want a name!"

"Duke!"

"Liar!" Pegasus shoved his lover against the leather seating. He returned to his place near the window, brushing off a locket of silver hair that fell out of place. With cell phone in hand, he pressed star sixty seven and waited.

No number returned. The caller's ID was blocked. "Clever boy," Pegasus grumbled. He glared down at his lover, eyes narrowed thin. "So help me Zigfried von Schroeder, if I discover you're masquerading around the streets with those felons again—"

"It's no such thing!" Zigfried defended, intensely outraged.

"It had better not be." Pegasus would deal with his lover's secrets another time. The city's safety was at hand. If they didn't find this child by sunrise, he couldn't predict what sort of anger Atem would unleash on the city this time.

* * *

Yugi huffed and sunk even lower on the wooden stairs, hands cupped on his cheeks as he stared at the pothole littered street. He didn't understand why he was still sitting here. He'd done his part in getting Kisara more help; that is, if the Red Eyes leader even agreed to it. All Yugi got back was a grunt, a few cuss words and the door slamming in his face and that was before Yami clearly said "Stay there," before disappearing inside the house.

Yugi had the right mind to tell him to _'fuck off'_ just as he'd told Atem because as far as Yugi was concerned, he had no role in this ordeal. These two were going to be erased from his life if it killed and based on his track record dealing with the gang leaders, that's the exact road Yugi was heading down.

Yugi huddled further into his brother's hoodie, sniffing the outline where most of Heba's old scent lingered. Smelling it put his restlessness at ease for a time to think. What would Yugi do from here? What if Yami didn't agree to help with the search? It seemed like a plausible plan at the time, because who else did Yugi know could cover more ground and had the command of hundreds of runners? Yami had eyes all over the city. If Atem's men were having trouble scouring their half, maybe Yami's men might have better fortune on his end.

Well, that was Yugi's thought process when he'd knocked on the door and that was his concluded theory as he pushed himself up to his feet. With a final glance over his shoulder, Yugi started down the sidewalk to his home, cradling his arm close to his chest. He needed some painkillers. The throbbing was coming back tenfold for every step he took.

"I thought I told you to stay put," Yami's voice erupted a few meters away, but Yugi heard it as if the man were directly behind him.

For the past thirty minutes, the man hadn't so much as made a sound inside the house and now he decides to show? Yugi found himself drawn to look behind himself at the magnetic force that Yami's voice seemed to have on him. The Red Eyes leader was standing in the mouth of the doorway with his arms folded over his chest and lips pursed tightly together, indicating his displeasure at being disobeyed. The stance reminded Yugi of a foreign king reprimanding an inadequate servant.

The idea of a king was quickly diluted with words like ruthless, crazy and arrogant because Yugi could never picture someone with Yami's behavior able to befit the title.

"I'm going home." Yugi had too much pride to have it stomped on and crushed into itty bitty pieces. Fool him once, shame on him. Fool him twice, well, that made him some fool's bitch.

Yami sighed with exaggeration as he ambled down the stairs, taking up the distance between him and Yugi in low legged strides. Yugi held his ground, narrow chest puffed out and feet spread shoulder width apart.

Bravery while your arm was wrapped in gauze and being out in your pajamas hardly gave off an intimidating aura, Yami thought amused and annoyed. If that was what Yugi was aiming for, he failed miserably. He looked like a frail teenage boy who'd never known a proper spanking. Yami's glare still simmered down a pang as he thought about the more important situation at hand.

"Did you want something?" Yugi asked sullenly. "Because I distinctly remember you saying not to come near you again."

"And here you are knocking on my door telling me Kisara's missing," Yami countered. "Though my request was made, here you stand before me. This shows how little you care for authority and how you care even less for the figure."

Yugi bit his bottom lip before shrugging, looking off to the side. "Whatever." He was at a loss for words about his actions as well. There was no reliable explanation he could come up with because echoing them back to Yami might sound ridiculous and too forgiving. And Yugi was anything but that at the given moment.

"Well?" Yami prompted.

"Well what?" Yugi said, crossed. "I came and asked, now I'm leaving. Believe me, the sight of you pisses me off."

"Why come to me of all people? Why not the police?" Yami mocked in a dark, churlish tone. "What makes you believe I'm the right man to come to? I could easily find that girl and kill her myself."

Yugi tensed at the jibe, all irritation vanishing from his face. It happened fast, the look of worry and fear assuming that Yami might actually live up to that statement. However, looking into the Red Eye leader's eyes, Yugi knew differently. Disbelief replaced his previous anxiety.

"Do whatever you wanna do," Yugi coldly murmured, poised for retreat. "I came to see if you'd help him out because you've obviously got some history together. Maybe I was stupid for believing you two would put your differences aside for the sake of a small girl, but if your intentions are as malicious as you say, I can't help that." He shrugged, and resumed walking down the sidewalk.

The dismissal, much to Yami's disdain, took him by surprise. He'd felt sure that Yugi would try to butter up the situation, rip and rave, scream and bitch about how unfair Yami was being. Yugi had barely given the matter some consideration before writing it off like a bad check. That was a mistake Yami would learn from. He'd have to remember that Yugi had a will as strong as his and when crossed, was not easy to get back on even grounds with.

That wasn't to say that the boy's brazen attitude wasn't frustrating. "So you'll walk away to leave me to my own devices?"

"My feet are moving aren't they?" Yugi shouted back.

Yami blinked twice before narrowing his glare at him again. Pivoting on his heel, Yami made his way back to the Grove's household and went around the back way to the wooden garage hut. He kept a black 2005 impala stored inside for testing and trades. Yami got in, turned the ignition and sped around the house, and down the street. By the time he reached Yugi the boy was just turning along the little bit of road separating the Grove from the city and Yugi's small dirt road path home.

Screeching tire wheels alerted Yugi a few beats before the impala cut him off as he was about to cross the street. With his mouth agape and the thought of nearly being ran over freshly registering in his mind, his purple eyes became livid and angry.

"Are you insane?" he exclaimed. "You nearly killed me!"

The driver's window smoothly slid down. "Get in the car," Yami ordered.

The young baseball player stared at the man like he'd gone mental. "Fuck you!" he spat. "I'm not getting in a car with you!"

"I said get in!"

"I said fuck you!"

The driver's door clicked open.

Yami was half way out the car when Yugi took off down the street, long legs chopping furiously to escape. Yami chuckled. He wouldn't need his car to catch this boy. People assumed because he was twenty seven and smoked a lot, that he wasn't much for doing any hard labor. Underestimating him has always been his triumph amongst the foolish. After slamming his door shut, Yami broke into a one way sprint down the street, inhaling through his nostrils and exhaling the same way, arms and legs pumping. His navy blue and white Air Max shoes were light and soft against the asphalt and soundless on the dusty orange road.

The path never seemed this long before and the game shop looked like it was miles away. Yugi checked over his shoulder only to stretch his eyes wide at the horrifying scowl on his pursuer's face. Yugi's chest constricted in a tight ball and the knot of pain in his arm started to tingle to the surface.

Yugi was slowly and very noticeably, losing ground. Attempting to ignore the threat of nearing footsteps, Yugi ran as fast his legs could muster to appear confident in his pace despite his growing fear, but his speed was dying off and he knew it would be in vain.

Yugi knew he wasn't going to make it when a large hand grabbed his upper arm and yanked him backwards into a solid warm chest. Another hand whipping out to cup his mouth before he could utter a sentence. Yugi stopped moving, frozen with fright, his eyes dilated in horror as he stared ahead at his home outlined by the night horizon.

"Did you honestly think you'd get away?" Yami jeered in Yugi's ear.

The youth's heart pounded frantically in his chest. Strong hands spun him around, face to face with the man who shot him and forced him to see those red glaring eyes. Yugi bit back the hoarse sob that rose in his throat, tears moistening from the pain in his arm and the fear in his mind as he stared helplessly at his killer. He recoiled, knees weakened from the contact.

Yami almost relinquished his hold on the youth, but instead slacked his fingers from their blood-stopping grasp. How many times had he witnessed the final terrified and dreadful shadowing in the eyes of his victims before pulling the trigger? The count was as endless as the stars but this was the first time Yami had ever felt a moment of remorse from seeing the results of his own actions. The fear in Yugi's eyes came like the tide, rising higher and higher with no signs of ever evaporating.

Seizing the opportunity of the gang leader's quiet confusion and hesitation, Yugi pulled himself free and hastily put some distance between him and Yami, never breaking eye contact. His arms instinctively wrapped around his upper torso, as if to shield away the danger from approaching. The pain from his injured limb made Yugi wince, for the moment, breaking his eye contact with Yami to inspect the damage. With the chase and scared being the only thing on his mind, Yugi had forgotten it was aching.

Shaking out of his perturbed reverie, Yugi cleared his throat, shifting from foot to foot. "Why won't you leave me alone?" he tensely whispered. "I told you why I came. I don't want anything to do with you."

"That's too bad," Yami replied frostily. "You should've thought of that before you came back."

"My god and I wish I hadn't!" Yugi nastily sneered. "My life's been hell since I've met you and that fool Atem. I don't want anything to do with either of you, so why can't you leave me alone?" He was damn nearly hysterical, chest heaving and eyes widening. "He asks me to help him find his daughter, so I go to you. I say my piece and leave, but you won't let me. You both told me to stay away from you and I've done by part but you refuse to go away! Why? I don't understand because as far as I'm concerned I DON'T WANT EITHER OF YOU TO COME NEAR ME AGAIN! I'M DONE!"

A deadly silence ensued. The rustle of the dying night winds broke the silence as it fanned through blades of grass and caressed the trees.

". . . That's too bad, Young Buck. Because for the time being, whether we like it or not, we're stuck together."

Yami's gun was out in seconds and Yugi's heart started palpitating like a race horse bucking in a boxed cage.

Atem emerged from the woody foliage with a grim expression and a broken glare in his eyes. With his hands shoved in his pockets, he made his way over to the younger men, eyes cast downward and stride slow.

"Put the gun away, Young Blood," Atem softly ordered. "This isn't about red or blue tonight."

"Like hell," Yami returned just as light and cold. "It's always about representation."

Atem's frown didn't quite reach his brow. He shook his head like the very sight of Yami made him tired.

"Answer me this, fool," Yami started. "How the hell do you lose track of a little girl? What were you thinking? Were you out settling down between a pair of nice legs or getting your dick sucked?"

Atem's frown _did_ reach his brow this time, crinkling his forehead with rows of thick wrinkles. His head was tilted so slowly to the side, it looked painful. "Since you weren't there to provide the service, no I wasn't."

"You bastard—"

"I don't have time for this."

"Fine, I'll leave."

"Go on, I never asked you to come here!"

"As if you'll be able to find her with the pathetic state you're in!"

"Shut the hell up, Yami!" Which to everyone's surprise he did and Yugi slinked back as well because the tone of voice was not like anything he'd ever heard Atem use.

It was borderline cold and sharp, like freshly polished blade left to cool over ice. Atem paced back and forth, chest billowing his shirt as he strolled while running a noticeably shaky hand in his hair. "I've got too much on my mind to worry about you digging up old hurt feelings! My child's out there! Do you think now's the time to reminisce on old shit? Do not piss me off tonight. I'm already on edge!"

He was fed up with this entire situation. As if his frustrations weren't already fucked up, Atem had thought he'd be on his own finding his daughter until he saw Yugi leave his house and walk straight into Yami's area. Atem hadn't realized he'd waited until the boy arrived back, running like the devil hounds were on his heels and Yami right behind him. Putting two and two together was simple. Yugi had gone to ask for Yami's help with the search and who in the hell would've thought the man would even appear?

His presence was almost endearing, assuming he'd subconsciously decided to put aside the gang rivalry to help his enemy. When Yami opened his mouth, with words of contempt slipping from his lips like tainted venom, Atem knew the fool was only here to taunt him in his crippled state. Which brought to question a certain party something very important.

Atem had his mouth fixed to envelope Yugi's ears with his aggravation, his disdain for Yami's useless company and the lack of support when he'd noticed the soft-spoken teen was fidgeting. His round purple eyes switched from one man to the man as if expecting another gun to be drawn. His gaze particularly stayed glued to the one Yami drew. The balls of Yugi's knuckles resembled snow drops.

Atem balled his lips, nodded to himself than asked in a quiet voice. "Why the hell would you ask him to come here, Yugi? You know our history. Red and blue don't mix."

Yugi jumped when he was being addressed. Looking between them, he seemed to shrink into himself, the way a beaten slave cowers before his pharaoh. "Because, I thought it made sense at the time. We can't call the police because who knows what will happen if they find Kisara before we do." Atem smiled small-like at the _'we'_ part. "Yami knows this side of town better than anyone. He can have a search party setup to find Kisara. No one would have to know she was your daughter, Atem."

Yugi spoke like the idea were rephrased before a mirror so many times he could recite it in his sleep. His tone, much to both the men's hidden chagrin, was hollowed and course. When no one spoke, Yugi peered up to find dark red and merlot eyes staring at him so intensely, Yugi squirmed under confusing glares.

"In any case, you're free to do what you want." Yugi turned on his heel aiming for Kame's Shop with the full intentions of actually putting this shit behind him and starting his life anew. For real, he was dead serious. No more gangs, no more fear, no more concerns for other people's troubles (namely those in gangs) and no more worries of being shot. Trust and believe that was one parting detail he'd happily deal without.

"You would go through the trouble of seeking me out only to walk away?" said Yami in a sneer that should've stabbed a hole in Yugi's valiant balloon. Though the youth's steps wavered, the tedious tingles of pain reminded him of what stopping would mean and how he'd be setting himself up for another tug of war with what was right and wrong.

Because dealing with these two again would be so wrong.

"Don't walk away from me!" Yami shouted. "I told you to stay away and you walk back in my life to ask me to help my enemy? Did you honestly expect this to end just like that?"

Yugi continued walking, eyes moist. "I told you to do what you want! I don't have to be around. Kill each other for all I care, I've done what I felt was right!"

"Yugi!"

It seemed both Yami and Atem were set on having the young man in their company. They both called his name, both with the oddest emotion and with separate meanings. Whatever definition laid behind those secretive emotions, Yugi didn't want to know.

Yugi's hand grasped the doorknob as a large hand clapped his uninjured shoulder. A shuddering sob coughed from his lips. No matter how hard he squeezed his eyes, a solitary tear still fell from his eye.

"I just wanna be left alone. Being near either of you terrifies me because I don't. . . I'm. . . I don't know . . ." Yugi truly didn't know what to do. A part of him was struggling with putting up with the strain of working together to find Kisara and being able to move on. Then there was another part of him that knew—it was in his gut—that if he were to go with them tonight, he wouldn't be able to move on and live because they'd be imprinted in his life like a permanent virus.

"Just for tonight, Yugi. I'm asking of you . . . no, I'm begging. Put aside my foolish, cowardly, ignorance for the sake of helping me—us—find Kisara. Afterwards, if there's ever anything you want me to do for you, anything at all, I'm at your disposal." Atem's fingers massaged the ball of Yugi's shoulder, warmth unknowingly seeping through the thick cloth like an electric blanket.

Yugi heaved a deep breath, refusing to drop another tear for these men. "I don't want to deal with you, period. Never, ever, ever again! I don't want to! I don't!" He crackled and buckled, shakily fighting back the lump in his throat.

The weight of Atem's hand vanished. The space felt empty, chilled and almost longing to reclaim the warm comfort it stupidly left behind. It wasn't for long though. The swish of grass and kicked pebbles alerted Yugi to the hard pressed footsteps coming closer and closer until the evidence of someone standing behind him was confirmed by a slender arm carefully curl around his neck and pulling back.

Yami's humid sigh brushed against Yugi's ear. The tenor of his words seemed to tap dance on Yugi's ribcage. "I don't want to do this anymore than you," he quietly conveyed. "But if you know something about this girl that we don't, then you're needed."

Yugi resisted at first, feet weakly digging a grove in the ground as he was dragged farther and farther away from his home. "There isn't anything else," he croaked, as bits of his fight started to break from his body.

Yami's arm tightened a little, his hand unclasped from its balled fist and into an open palm he used to repeatedly caress the back Yugi's neck.

"The faster we get this over with, the least time you'll have to deal with me and him," Yami murmurs. "Do as you please after that."

Yugi wanted to do as he pleased now. Why was there always a condition behind everything he wanted to do? If he listened to Tristan, then there will be one less pair of eyes out there helping to find Kisara. If Yugi doesn't help with the search, guilt would be his constant companion until he got news of how she was doing. If Yugi went with these men, he would probably suffer something worse than a gunshot. With these factors in play, why didn't it make more sense to mind his own business? The answer was simple. He was weak. So weak and pathetically sympathetic to people who promised to kill him on sight and one of them nearly had.

Yet, Yugi knew he was man enough to put that incident in the backburner. For the sake of Kisara, he would. Still, that petty nagging sense of disappointment refused to stop churning his stomach. Yugi unhooked Yami's arm from his neck and with all his strength, shoved his hand in the middle of his chest.

This was bullshit. He hated his conscious.

"Don't touch me. I can walk." Yugi purposely pushed passed Atem on his way down the orange dirt road without a backwards glance. Being forced into doing this, not just by Atem and Yami but including his own stupid disposition, had Yugi's body rigid.

They reached Yami's still humming Impala moments later. Yami raised his hand over head to sync the car's sensory system from a distance and unlocked the doors. Yugi opened the back door and dipped inside the backseat. It was for the best that he didn't see what the other two were about to do.

Atem automatically walked alongside Yami to the car truck.

Yami pushed his key in, turned and lifted the storage compartment to reveal his mini supply of weapons. Revolvers, pistols, silent shooters, flintlocks, forty-fives, the usual 9mm, and magnums, all neatly organized, polished and filed in size and strength. Yami's dark eyes shifted over the wide selection before reaching in to grab a semi-automatic Walther P99 pistol and tucking it in his waistband.

When Atem reached inside, Yami was on his wrist in seconds. The two shared a momentarily flicker of remembrance to a time they were both reaching for the same gun in the past. They would smile and argue for a few minutes on who would be a better shooter.

There were no smiles this time. Just a profound urge to act irrational, particularly on Yami's end. The way his red eyes concentration on Atem's hand and then his face said he wasn't trusting the man as far as he could throw him, regardless of the mutual agreement to work together.

"Don't touch," Yami finally growled, slinging his rival's hand away. "I know you're already carrying two pistols. Why use my merchandise?"

Atem's fingers flexed, lips grimly thinning as he stared at Yami as if by sight alone he could relay his inner turmoil.

"This isn't like old times," Yami voiced aloud. "I still don't trust you."

"I already told you before, Young Blood. I couldn't kill you if I tried."

"You expect me to believe that?"

"Yami, we can sit here going back and forth all we want, but the longer we're _here_, the longer we'll have to be out _there_." Atem's other hand came and covered the top of the one light tanned one gripping his wrist. "For a while, let's try to coexist like old times. At least in front of Yugi."

Yami snatched his hand from the clammy warmth, making a show of wiping his hand on his shirt, all the while glaring at his rival. "The boy being here doesn't make a difference to me." Though he'd be lying if he didn't think about lightening some of the stress on Yugi. It was probably ripping the teen apart to have to help the people who nearly killed him on several occasions.

Leaning forward, Yami retrieved a M1911 pistol with a loaded magazine. He held out the gun to Atem, whom lifted an eyebrow in turn.

Atem slowly eased the gun from Yami's fingers and added it to his waistband with the other two hidden weapons on his person. Now fully strapped, the gang leaders split on opposite sides of the car and got in. They both took a look behind to see Yugi quiet and reserved, seat belt fastened in place and a dull shine in his eyes.

Yami noticed it first. A thin orange hoodie, two sizes too big and catching the scent of pumpkin spice. He remembered Yugi wearing the same thing on the night they spoke in the café. Grimacing he closed his eyes, fingers grasping the leathery wrapping around his steering wheel. Atem heard the squeak, the grit of teeth and the far off expression on Yami's face.

"Let's go," he crisply ordered, jogging Yami back to the present.

Yugi was rocked out of his mental state as well by the strange tone and peered at the front seat passengers, wondering if he'd missed something. Judging by the heated expressions being exchanged, it was probably so.

"We're going to start looking _today_, aren't we?" Yugi said. "I don't know about you, but I'd rather be home before my grandfather goes into cardiac arrest." Neither replied. Of course not because whatever issue they had going was way more important than finding a missing five-year-old. "Come on!" Yugi stressed.

The two tore their eyes apart before casting their looks at Yugi who returned with emphasized intensity. The dense anguish in the car was thick. Yami started the car after narrowing his eyes at Yugi. This wasn't going to be a pleasant cooperation.

"Where should we look first?"

Yugi settled back in his seat. "Check the park near the elementary schools," he sniffed, returning his gaze out the window.

"I doubt a five year old can get across town on her own," Yami grumbled irritably, putting the car in drive and cruising down the road.

"If you have any better ideas, feel free to share. Otherwise, just drive. I'll help," Yugi pressed himself as close to the car door as possible, "but that doesn't mean I wanna talk."

"Who the hell you talking to like that?" Yami glared. "You better fix that attitude or I'll—"

"Shoot me again?" Yugi sneered angrily. "Go on and do it! I swear to God you better make sure I'm dead this time because I promise to return the favor!"

"Trust me, I won't miss!"

Yugi's bravado wavered.

"Enough!" Atem rolled his eyes. "Knock it off." He looked over his shoulder at Yugi's frowning purple eyes glaring out the window. "How do you expect us to communicate if you're not willing to add your two cents?"

Yugi's head whipped around so fast, his banes took three seconds to catch up. "Excuse me?" he gawked. "Communicate? You really wanna go there about proper communication? Who was it that jumped to conclusions after he wanted so badly to fuck me?"

Yami almost stomped on the brakes. "Say what?"

"That hardly counts. You should've told me you were in league with the Red Eyes!" Atem shot back.

"I wasn't in league with anyone, you deaf idiot!" Yugi shrieked, voice escalating several octaves passed a dog whistle. "I didn't fucking know you were a blue blood until that night. How did you expect me to read your mind and think '_Oh he's the leader of the blue eyes, I better make sure he doesn't know I know Yami.' _You should've told me from the start what you were!"

Yami snorted. "So it was poor communication on your end," he directed at Atem. "Why am I not surprised?"

"You're just as thick headed as he is, Yami!" Yugi said. "After all we'd talked about in the car and the cafe, did you even think for one minute to listen to reason? No, because if you had, I wouldn't be sitting here with a fucked up arm! I gave you the benefit of the doubt when we first met because you seemed so . . . so . . . different from how other people saw you." Yugi leaned back in his seat. "I know differently now."

"You don't know anything," Yami returned. "All you're willing to go by is what's on the surface."

"That's because you shut people out before they can hammer through that thick hide of yours," Atem added in. "You're selective about who you let in."

Yami's grip tightened on the steering wheel. Silence hovered above them like a storm cloud. "Because every time I do they walk away or betray me."

"Gee, I wonder why," snorted Yugi.

"I never betrayed you," Atem raged back, eyes paper slit thin and teeth grinding. "Not once. I was always there. I was the one who helped you through your troubles. I held you when you thought you had nothing else to live for—"

"—for your own selfish gain, and your father's, Atem. All of you thought of me as nothing more than a damn dog to tame," Yami yelled, stopping the car and getting right in his rival's face. "Did you think about how I felt those times I was forced into doing those horrendous acts? How the hell could you possibly classify that as help? Only one person really cared for me without asking for anything in return—"

"—and where is he now? Six feet under! He, the one you still so helplessly cling to like some deprived pup, was the one who turned traitor, yet I suffered for his mistakes! So help me, if that bastard were alive now, I'd put him flat on his back!"

"Was he the only one to turn traitor?"

"—I didn't do anything besides reveal him for what he was. When the truth revealed itself, even then I gave him the benefit of the doubt and what happened? He turns it on both of us and high tails it out. You should have trusted me, Yami! I would've never hurt you the way he had—"

"I was scared too!"

Their words hung in the air between them where they stood, chest-to-chest, both breathing hard, flushed and as the seconds stretched, a little startled by everything that had been said.

_He. He. That he had to be Heba. _

Yugi gathered up his breath to speak at last, after bearing witness to a grievous altercation he felt was long overdue. "What did Heba do to you?" Yugi pursed his lips together. "Was he really so horrible? H-had he always been this way?" Poisonous and evil to the people who trusted him so? If that's the case had Heba burdened a hidden cruelty on his own family? Yugi's palms grew damp and his mind became scampered.

Yami's eyes found refuge outside the windshield, watching the early morning sky burnish the night to soft navy and rich warm hues, before his gaze rose and shifted behind to Yugi in a near tremble, like some who'd just discovered how cold ice was.

Atem swallowed, and dragged one, then both his hands up to his face, inflating and deflating breath after breath after breath. When, at last, he did look at Yugi, he couldn't bring himself to fully acknowledge the full extent of Heba's past. How could he tell a sad face so flushed of its previous nervousness and now fixed with a new kind of dismayed opinion of what Heba was really like?

Yugi blinked at them, eyes slowly watering. "Was he?"

Yami sighed, shaking his head. "No, not always."

"In the beginning, no," Atem assured. "Heba was . . ." Atem licked his lips. He couldn't lie if he tried. He pushed open the car door and got out.

Yugi's eyes widened and took a moment to survey the area, realizing that they were at the park. He'd been so raptured in the conversation between them, he guessed he hadn't noticed. Yami exited the car as well, finding Atem facing him with hard eyes. Yugi joined the two and from there they start looking.

The park was dark, a phantom's playground with so little activity and the shadows of the playthings stretched across the grass and flowers and sandboxes. They scoured every piece of equipment, from the biggest in the center, to the smaller more singular playthings on the outside. With every unturned object, Atem's apprehension frantically grew. The large concrete blocks containing flowers were stalked around five times each and still no signs of her.

Yugi returned last from his journey around the playground, approaching with lead in his legs and a steel cage around his heart. He was getting worried. Kisara, naturally, wouldn't have been able to come this far on her own, especially with the Blue Eye's territory only stretching so far. She'd have to walk into Red Eye lands to get here.

The search ended at the swing set. Yami was perched against one the reclining pole, eyes closed and arms folded over his chest. Atem was alongside him, sitting in one of the swings with his face buried in his hands. Yugi vaguely wondered in secret how many of Atem's enemies would pay to see him so far from his arrogant post and now, bowed down to the small bits of a man. Yugi's uninjured hand acted on its own accord and lifted up as if to touch the slumped shoulders, usually perked up with regal confidence and strong braggadocio.

Yugi stopped his idling hand before it could land. He had to remember that he wasn't here to lean that kind of comfort. He was only here to assist in this quest and no more.

"Where could she be?" Atem outwardly and inwardly snarled, frustration coiling his innards like rope.

Yami shoved off the pole. "We're not the only ones looking. Someone's bound to find her."

"You're so sure?"

"As well as you should be," Yami murmured. "The Medium is out for her trail as well, but it'd be in our best interests to get to her first."

"Why?" Yugi questioned. "If she's found by them, wouldn't she be safe?"

Atem pushed his hands back over his hair, flicking each oversized spike. "I'd prefer my daughter on safer grounds, which are my own. Should Pegasus find her, he'll no doubt ship her back to Egypt to be with her grandfather."

Pegasus, yes. Yugi knew enough about the older gentleman to comprehend his way of ruling. Still, why go to such drastic measures?

"He's paranoid," Yami answered Yugi's mental question. "And with good reason. We're forbidden to have children within the walls of the city."

"Why?"

A warring sensation lingered like plucking needles in Atem's patience. "Is that all we can do for now? Stand and talk away like we have nothing to do? We've done enough sitting here. Talk and search if you must, but put better use to your time than just standing here!" He surged to his feet, bucking the rubber saddle off his legs and stomped toward the Impala, clearly relaying the next course of action would be taken by vehicle.

His entire body paused, ceasing all motor skills, and twisted around fast. So caught up in the thought of his daughter being harmed, he'd nearly forgotten about Yami being behind him. The immediate demand to counteract a possible sneak attack, to be the first to strike and being weary all purged his mind of what was important for a brief, flitting moment until the odds were even and Yami was standing on his right and Yugi joining Atem's left side.

"We'll find her," Yugi tried meagerly to assure with common placed words and careful precision. "I know you're frustrated, but keeping a leveled head is the only way we can think through this clearly. No amount of rushing without planning will guarantee we'll find her."

"He's right," Yami abruptly joined in, much to the other two men's light surprise. "You, especially, should take Kisara's care into consideration. Think, you're her father. Where would she go? How would she know to get there? How trusting is she to strangers?"

Atem snorted. "God, no. Baby girl's stubborn and audacious, but she knows better than to trust anyone beyond who I tell her to." He cupped his hand over his eyes. "I'm so worried. The fuck is wrong with me? Why did I chose then to fall asleep?"

"We all make mistakes. Groaning over it isn't going to help any more than us standing here." When Yugi reached out, he took Atem's wrist and pulled towards the car. "Come on. We'll think of something." Atem willingly followed, his steps heavy and his eyes dulling away to a shadow of regret because he didn't know what he'd do if something happened to his baby girl.

"Yugi, hold back will you?" Yami said, motioning with his hand for Yugi's attention with authority laced around the request. "I need to talk to you."

A raised eyebrow was his first answer. It was a curious gesture that was accompanied by an edgy debate within Yugi to oblige or carry on. Inwardly, he wasn't too keen on being near Yami alone for any amount of time. Atem's urgency was more important to attend to, didn't he know? Whatever Yami needed to say could wait.

"Can't this wait, Yami?" Atem questioned, his tone dry.

"No." Yami responded petulantly, folding his arms and keeping his eyes sternly on Yugi's face.

Yugi's teeth gripped his lips, visibly displeased. "Fine," he said, tapping Atem's shoulder. "We'll hurry."

Atem clicked his tongue and a disappointed expression crossed his handsome face. "Be quick about it," he said to both of them and waited right where he was, arms locked in front of his chest and a pending expression that warned Yami as well as Yugi to hurry up with whatever was _supposedly _more important than finding his daughter.

When Yugi crossed the distance between him and Yami, the older man placed a hand on the small of Yugi's back and guided him a few meters away. Yugi became flustered, darting quick glances over his shoulder at Atem and at Yami's scowling expression.

They stopped by a collection of red, blue and yellow interconnected tunnels and giant tire wheels, half-dug in the ground.

"What is it?" Yugi questioned when it didn't seem Yami would do anything besides stare over Yugi's shoulder.

"I don't think you understand just how essential it is that we find her first," Yami quietly said, a beat later.

"I do understand. He's worried," Yugi looked behind himself to see Atem staring intently back, foot tapping and fingers drilling into the crook of his arms. "What parent wouldn't be?"

"It goes deeper than the bond between parent and child. Much deeper. Kisara is literally Atem's bond to his sanity, the unclipped switch to his grenade."

Yugi shook his head. "You're not making sense. Any sane person would be driven mad if they assumed the worse of their child."

"That's what Atem doesn't need to assume at all." Yami, for the first time in a long while, openly revealed his timid fear to someone else. "Yugi, you were but a boy when Domino was condemned to hell. That same week Heba was murdered, was the same week the city erupted into a pandemonium and the streets were covered in so much blood you couldn't distinguish whose body belonged to who."

Yugi's adam apple sunk and rose in his throat. "I wasn't here when that happened. Me and Grandpa were . . ." they were suddenly taken out of the city by a band of strange men. It'd happened so suddenly and without enough time to gather their things. It was only when they returned four days later to find their home spared of the terror that they learned of Heba's death.

"What does that have to do with anything?" Yugi whispered, tensing from head to toe with looming dread.

Yami's handsome face contorted into a hideous, twisted glare. "Heba's death caused that destruction and the destroyed the last remnants of Atem's mind." Yami gave the longest sigh of his life. "He was the reason the city was left broken, aged and burned to rubble at his feet."

Yugi's gasp hitched in his chest and paused there. He gradually turned, inch by fearful inch, to look at Atem's face and grimaced.

". . . Imagine what will happen if Kisara's not found soon or worse, killed off? His anguish will know no bounds . . . So that everyone else knows his pain, he'll kill every person in sight until the fairness of his sadness is matched with everyone else. . ."

"Is that why you're really willing to find her?" Yugi didn't think his voice could sound so far away.

Yami nodded once. "For the sake of my life as well as everyone else's, it's imperative we find her and soon."

* * *

Tears burned in Kisara's eyes as she limped on her tender feet, sore and achy from having walked for so long. The purr and dash of cars resounded from all around her, like the approach of monsters promising to eat her when they arrived. It's been so long now. She couldn't find Yugi anywhere and now, she couldn't find her way home.

Everything was so big.

Everything roared like angry dragons stirred from a long slumber.

Daddy always told her never to talk to strangers. But how could she get home if she can't talk to people? Her stomach hurt and her pajamas were dingy with dirt and mud when she fell while running away from a rabid dog. She thought it might help her get home like the pretty one on TV but it tried to steal Teddy and nearly ripped off one of his arms.

The leaking limb hung by a tread and Kisara's strong hug was what held the poor thing together. She used the bear's cushioned belly to put her face in and breathed deeply, shuddering and weeping. "Yugi . . . Daddy. . . I wanna go home," she cried on her only friend. Kisara realized after a long journey that there was too much effort put in a futile mission.

She wasn't going to find Yugi because she didn't know where he lived. She couldn't go home because it was hard to remember the directions she took to get this far. All her ears picked up were funny sounds, none of them familiar and all very scary. The possibilities of being kidnapped by a vicious creature and taken to its home to be eaten scared her to death.

Cousin Seth always said to be brave and never cry, no matter how terrifying the world may seem. Cousin Marik always said to fight back the need to cry. Daddy would say she could run to him and cry whenever she needed to. That's who she wanted most. And then she could fall apart in his arms and cling to his nice smelling shirt and listen to the sweet words he always hummed in her ear.

Kisara scrubbed her sleeve over her eyes and started walking again. The sidewalk was endless. There were so many paths to use and so many bright street lights.

"Yo' is that 'er?!"

Kisara whirled around. Screeching to a rough halt a few feet behind was a gigantic truck, the biggest she'd ever seen. Al four car doors opened and four heads popped out. She saw someone. Someone tall and loud. Someone scary. Someone that wasn't her father running straight for her. Kisara didn't think about it when she started running down the sidewalk.

"Daddy!" she cried and suddenly felt herself flying in the air in slight pain when large hands grasped beneath her armpits and yanked up. "No! No! Stop it! Leave me alone!"

"I got 'er lads!" The stranger victoriously shouted, and hurried back to the car with his struggling cargo.

Kisara screamed, kicked and howled at the top of her lungs, but alas this early, no one could hear her desperate pleas for help. She was caught by the monsters and she'll never see her daddy again . . .

* * *

He saw everything.

It happened too fast for him to react. By the time he parked his car, Marik caught the tail end of his baby cousin's feet being shoved inside one of the Red Eyes vehicles. He whipped out his cell phone and dialed Seth's number. He dropped back inside his Mercedes Benz and urgently waited for his cousin to answer while tailing the rear end of the kidnappers.

The phone clicked signifying Seth having finally answered_. "Did you find her?"_ he asked.

"Yeah but you gotta call back up for Efland Street and Board Ave!" Marik angrily snarled. "Those motherfucking red bloods went too far this time! I just saw a couple of 'em snatch her up!"

Seth, the usually calm, more composed of his entire family, for the first time in his life, lost control. Marik knew when his cousin hung up the phone, he was dialing for the rest of the family members to get ready for a showdown.


	12. Terminal

**Author's Rant: **No time to proofread. Will do after work and please excuse the chapter's poor quality. Just going through some things right now. Enjoy!

**Warning:** Gun Violence. Blood Shed. Sexual intercourse between males.

_~Side note: Corrections made~_

* * *

**Terminal**

* * *

Yusei wasn't sure what hurt more at first. It was either the fact that he was sitting debating on whether he should leave Jaden's behind to assist his new family or creeping out in the middle of the night like he'd spent the evening with a hooker. Considering Jaden was so much more than a cheap thrill, Yusei was left on edge. He'd gotten the call a few minutes ago from Seth, the Blue Eye Aces D.O.G. no less, and when any of the upper ranks called you in, you'd better get there like someone had you by the throat.

It wasn't that Yusei hadn't given this some thought. He was agonizing over it. For the first time in months, he was able to give Jaden what he desired so much and that was time spent together as any normal couple would. They spent time at the mall, went to a pizza joint and walked along the dock piers to stare at the sunset. This had been Yusei's first off day from the streets in weeks and the pay had been well worth the price of laying his life on the line every day. Atem had paid him in person with that lopsided grin of his and a wink, saying not to spend it all in one place.

How could Yusei not obey the orders of the people who were going to make sure he and Jaden had it together in a few months? He had to go. Yusei, wanting so much to leech some more of the comforting warmth of his lover's naked body, eased his arm from Jaden's waist at a dawdling pace as if to savor every inch he left behind. They'd made love for hours, so much passion, and so much tension. Jaden had clung to Yusei like he'd never see him again. Yusei drove himself to the point of no return, connecting them as one over and over, the sheets soaked from sweat and semen and tears. The pain was unreal. He knew he was hurting Jaden but the teen had been so reluctant to tell Yusei to stop because to him, the rich anguish meant Yusei was really here.

Now fully freed from Jaden's body, the air was cold like the sudden press of snow. It was three-seventeen in the morning, a time not foreign to Yusei for he'd been awake at later hours. Just one more moment wouldn't hurt would it? Just to stare at that sweet face. Jaden was laying on his side, mouth opened just a tad to breath, with soft gloriously French vanilla skin smooth as a newborn baby completely clean of the burnished scars, scratches and lines of blue-black ink like the kind over Yusei's chest, arms and back. BEA dominated his life about the same way his tattoos littered across his body.

Yusei tilted his head as if noticing Jaden's face for the first time. He was so different from the rest, so carefree and open to life. His chestnut brown and auburn hair was sweat-logged to his forehead, darkening the watery tendrils an almost dark chocolate. His eyelashes framed over his high cheekbones, and his face was purged from all stress. His lips were red as chili peppers from the savage kisses and half-bitten screams he tried to cover when Yusei had sucked his dick like a jolly rancher.

Yusei chuckled to himself. He'd enjoyed that part best. Jaden had been so high up in luxury lust and thrill, he'd battled with wanting to shout or alert his step-baby brother to the sounds of him having sex in the house. It'd been funny game to see how long he'd last before caving in.

Yusei couldn't resist watching any longer and gently reached out to pinch pieces of the sodden hair between his fingertips. He couldn't stop there, it wasn't enough. He stroked Jaden cheeks, his face, and his brow and lingered the longest on those swollen lips.

Nothing was enough. Jaden's essence drew Yusei in for more. Having momentarily forgotten his orders, Yusei leaned in to press his lips upon his boyfriend's. He turned his head gently from side to side, sliding his lips across Jaden's in a small probing manner. He slipped his tongue in, so smooth and slow so as to experience this like a virgin. There was a quick stiffening before the mouth under his began to move and the tongue inside flicked to meet Yusei's.

"Yusei," Jaden sleepily whispered in his mouth, tasting his breath, his love and his affections.

It was Yusei's undoing. Once more wouldn't hurt, he figured as he rolled his body on top and wormed his pelvis between Jaden's thighs, widening them to fit his grit. The kiss intensified, their bodies curled into one another, moving and stroking through the budding heat.

"Open your legs for me," Yusei murmured, and then kissed him again.

Jaden complied, spreading his legs as wide they could go and waited for the evitable moment to come. Their tongues slid and slurped, suffocating the room in sounds of skin and kisses. Yusei reached between them, tipping his finger across Jaden's dick before moving down to stroke himself to summon extra pre-cum as lube. He squeezed and urged until a heaping of it saturated his dick. He positioned the healthy grit at Jaden's entrance and paused, breathing kisses on Jaden's neck, his shoulder and under his chin.

"Yes Yusei, god please. I want you so much."

Yusei smirked. His lips made love to Jaden's chest, sinks lower to his stomach, open-mouth kisses loudly signaling his descent. The penetration could wait. He wanted to sample his love's body the way he'd never experience with another. Yusei reached the brunet's bald dick, watching it sway and twitch from the heated breezes. Licking his mouth, Yusei tested the tip with his lips, suckling softly.

Jaden jolted, hips bucking with quickened thrusts. Yusei cruelly hooked his fingers on Jaden's hips and anchored him to the mattress, sheets spilling off the edge. Jaden's thighs quivered. Yusei fed off his screams and feasted on his weeping saltiness.

Jaden gave a breathy gasp as his nails massaged and tangled in Yusei's wild dark hairs. "Yusei o-oh, d-damn," he stuttered, whimpering. "Don't stop, don't ever stop!"

Yusei couldn't keep himself from grinning. He relaxed his throat and went down, hollowing his cheeks for a long, hard suck. The pleasure ripped throughout Jaden's entire body like someone was struggling to yank the orgasm from his body. It was a tug-of-war, tittering back and forth with Yusei slowing and speeding up the suctions and Jaden trying to hurry it along with mini thrusts.

_The bigger the bill, the harder you ball  
Well I'm throwing mine, cause my money long  
The quicker you here, the faster you go  
That's why where I come from the only thing we know is_

_Work hard, play hard_  
_Work hard, play hard_  
_Work hard, play hard_  
_Work hard, play hard_  
_Work, work, work, work_  
_Work, work, work, work_

The magic faded as fast the noises were diffused by Yusei's cell phone blaring on the nightstand, embracing the walls and ceiling in bright blue.

"Fuck," he cursed under his breath, rolling away to the side of the bed.

Jaden, somewhat lost in the throes of a building orgasm, frowned with half-lidded eyes at Yusei's back. "What's wrong?"

Yusei ticked his lips angrily as he typed in the password to his cell and placed the phone to his ear. "Yeah?" He glanced over his shoulder at Jaden's bewildered expression and turned away. "Yeah, I'm comin'. Gimme a few. I'm on my way." He hung up the phone. "I gotta go." He said not looking back.

"Oh," Jaden jerked the hand he'd had hovering over Yusei's back, away and pulled the sheets around himself. Pulling his knees to his chest, his bright eyes dulled significantly. "Are you coming back soon?"

The emotional defeat in his voice almost caused Yusei to say to hell with the gang and to stay in bed. But, he had orders and like it or not, he had to comply.

"I dunno," he answered honestly, because whatever was going down meant anything was possible. "I'll call you when I can." Yusei stood up before dragging a furious hand through his massive hair, causing it to flurry in all kinds of directions.

"Will I see you at school? You know Jesse's been asking about you; so has Chazz. You were . . . you were supposed to join us at the school play to watch Alexis. . ." Jaden tried his hardest not to fidget on the bed, but felt his chest constrict and the urge to move to keep himself busy. "Jake's been worried about you . . .and-and Syrus. . . he misses you."

Yusei maneuvered around the room without another word. He wished his ears weren't so sensitive because picked up on every battling sob Jaden kept buried in his chest. He fucking hated putting his boyfriend through this with their relationship. It was a wonder Jaden had put up with it for this long and even nearly getting himself killed in the process. After hastily pulling on his clothes, he grabbed his wallet, keys and cell off the stand and started for the door, oblivious to Jaden's terror-stricken expression.

"Yusei!"

Yusei didn't respond, still marching for the door.

"Yusei, please, _please_. If you care at all, don't walk out that door, _please_."

That sound seared a hole straight in Yusei's cold resolve. Jaden's voice was weighed down with the size of the world's dread, sadness and fear laced like a wrecking ball in his throat. Yusei wished he hadn't turned around just then because what he saw broke his heart. Jaden was bunched in the corner of his bed, back against the wall, large cinnamon eyes melting with tears and full of distress. The sheets were wrapped around his waist, tangled in his fingers like they held the roped bond between Yusei and the door.

"Don't leave, please!" his voice hitched.

Yusei's lips thinned and looked away.

"I'm begging you not to walk away from me again. I never know when you're gonna come back! I'm tired of always being scared for you!"

Yusei tried not to, but he felt himself turning again to get caught up in those misty brown eyes.

"If you walk out that door that proves those killers mean more to you than I do!" Jaden angrily shouted, voice shaking. "Is that how it is? Huh?"

Sighing deeply, Yusei closed his grip around the door knob and twisted.

"Fine, go and don't bother coming back. I'll never speak to you again. Never, you hear! I can't take this—this shit anymore!" Jaden huffed, shoulders quivering and his nose running. "You don't have run at their every beck and call like a dog! You can stay. For once, just—just think about me and what this is doing to our relationship. Can't you—"

"I get it." Yusei grimaced, tussling his hair from side to side in a calm shake. "I haven't been much of a boyfriend to you and quite frankly its surprise you've put up with me for this long. By the time I see you again, you'll probably have a better boyfriend 'cause from how things are lookin' we aren't gonna make it."

Jaden leaned away, stunned. "W-wait, what? What did you say?" He swallowed thickly. "Why-how can you say that? I thought you loved me."

Yusei did. God, he did. He'd cross more than life and heaven and hell to keep it. There were priorities to deal with first. Why couldn't Jaden see that? "I'll see ya later." He couldn't think here. He had to leave before he fucked himself up with all these feelings. Gripping the doorknob tighter, Yusei turned and pulled the door open.

Jaden's panicked expression widened. "No! Yusei please! Wait, I-I'm sorry, I didn't mean it! Yusei? Yusei don't do this! YUSEI—"

Yusei closed the door behind him, ignoring the repetitively shout of his name, the horribly broken cries for his return and the desperate pleas.

"Yusei! Yusei, Yusei please! I'm sorry, please! Yusei! YUSEI!"

Yusei left without another word. He had a job to do. Jaden would understand that someday.

If he wasn't already with someone else by then. . . .

* * *

Yugi jerked awake, eyes wild and blood roaring in his ears. A car's alarm system blared in the distance somewhere.

Right, where was he again? Giving his surroundings a measurable look, he remembered suave interior, the blast of air circulating from the front and the scent of cherries and cigarette smoke. His eyes fell on the side profile of Yami's face. Why was . . . oh yeah. God, when had he fallen asleep? And what woke him up?

Something buzzed from the front seat, shrilling and flaring to life enthusiastically. Yugi watched Yami reached in the glove compartment and pull out a cell, press in a few numbers and returned it to its hiding place.

Yugi sat up and rubbed his eyes. A soft hiss rushed from his chapped lips as the sting of longevity in one spot caused his arm to protest against the move. "Damn."

Yami shifted around, dark slanted eyes inspecting the sound. "You're finally awake."

Shaking his head, Yugi eased himself up with his stronger arm and yawned. "How long had I been a sleep?"

"An hour."

"Oh." Yugi noticed then, a large sized blue leather trench coat fell around his midriff. The scent roused from the inner collar. Yugi sniffled and pushed himself all the way up, inspecting the lapel and rubbing it between his finger and thumb; noting the excellent quality. The tag read Forzieri, a very fine and expensive article of clothing. But whose was it? Yugi knew it wasn't his. This cost more than his protection fees.

"The coat's mine," Yami absently seemed to read Yugi's expression in the rearview mirror. "You were shivering. I thought you'd like the warmth."

"Oh." Yugi's gut twisted funny-like as he cleared his throat, still rubbing over the label. "Thank you."

Yami shrugged, taking a drag of his cigarette and exhaling the smoke out the jarred window.

Yugi's large, purple eyes sleepily fixated on the empty space adjacent Yami's seat. Yugi sat up fully and stretched his arms, rattled his head from the lingering fatigue and scratched his tousled hairs. "Where's Atem?"

"Out," was Yami's brusque reply.

Yugi blinked owlishly, contemplating whether he should accept that answer. Naturally, he didn't. "You always keep your answers condensed? It's not like it'd kill you to give a proper sentence."

Yami's severely spiked hair inclined to the side until his fiercely boiled red eyes softly glared at Yugi, not through the reflection of the mirror, but in full eye contact for the full blunt of those brilliant gullions. The cancerous vapors created this kind of stealthy, atmospheric mirage around Yami's body as if any second now, he'd dematerialize and appear elsewhere. Yugi sucked in a short breath, lungs tight as if the air were stolen from his body. He didn't know how to describe the subtle gleam in Yami's gaze.

Yugi swallowed, but fear refused to embody itself in him this time. By now, he was somewhat immune to these aristocratic scowls. Yugi folded the jacket and placed it to the side.

"Is everything a constant battle with you?" Yami's bass tone dropped like a bomb, wringing Yugi from his metaphoric thoughts.

Yugi's shoulders stiffened as acknowledgement of the obvious set in and though, it was hard to deny, Yugi knew it was true. Anxiety tightly grasped his heart in gelid, chilled talons, and refused to let go. Yugi sighed as an unusual glaze fogged his eyes.

"I gotta fight," Yugi scarcely whispered, nimble fingers toying with the hem of Heba's hoodie. "Otherwise, I'll be torn down. Heba was the one I looked to for protection. Since he died, I've had to be my own protector."

Admitting the truth did nothing to quell his heart's trepidation and or dampen the flare of Yami's eyes. The gaze was alluring as drug effects, extracting everything from Yugi. Once he started, he couldn't stop. The air in the car felt even more confound and frigid. Yugi lifted the jacket from its spot and dunned it over his shoulders, subconsciously tugging at the collar.

"Mama and Grandpa told me when I was a born, I stopped crying. I wasn't breathing. They couldn't understand why. The doctors tried their best to resuscitate me, but nothing happened. My family was upset and the doctors were disappointed. Not Heba." Yugi's cheeks warmed, chuckling. "He didn't know what happened when he wandered into the birthing room. No one noticed him at first, Mama told me. He just stood there, with a cold water bottle, a flower and a drawing from school."

Yami drew in another drag, eyes focused and intense, not saying a word.

"Mama told me the story so many times, I could recite it backwards." Yugi smiled somberly. "Why is he sleeping Mama, he asked. Mama couldn't answer him. How do you explain to a six-year-old your brother was dead after waiting so long to welcome him into the world?" Yugi hunched the jacket tighter. "Grandpa told him I wasn't ready to wake up to see everyone yet. And you know what Heba said?" Yugi met Yami's eyes with bleeding sadness. "He said, that's because he doesn't know I love him yet. So he walked over the bed I was in and poured the whole bottle of water on my face and yelled wake up!" Yugi smile was distant. "Grandpa said I woke up just like that, screaming at the top of my lungs like Heba had hurt my feelings. They'd always tell me that story on my birthday. . . Grandpa still does."

Shame collapsed the barrier walls he'd set since this journey started and the balance crumbled away fully. Regret immediately sketched into his mind, belittle the fool he was for spilling so much of his history to this man. Yugi's fingers curled into fists. The same man who'd shot him for goodness sakes. Shaking his head, and Yugi heaved a deep sigh and broke the eye contact to look out at the blooming morning. Yugi focused his thoughts on more pressing issues, such as school starting in a few hours and Kisara still being MIA. They needed to continue looking for her.

"That's quite a story," Yami muttered, facing the view outside the windshield. His posture slacked from the upward poise. "So he was a determined person even as a small child." He looked at Yugi again. The words were spoken as soft as airy as steam, and seemed to catch Yami off guard as it did Yugi.

Yugi's lips tightened. "Yeah, he was always like that . . . Wouldn't you know?" Yugi discovered himself asking a beat later and without a chance to think.

Yami's eyes widened. His aloofness shattered in an instant, Yugi saw and as quick as it came, the wall began to build itself back up, brick by cohesive brick.

"How did you two meet?"

Yami didn't say a single word, just glared with those fierce crimson eyes that burned several degrees hotter and manifested a cooling effect on the outside. Yugi was sure the sudden chill wasn't filtering from the air conditioning.

"I'm sorry, that's probably personal," Yugi made up the excuse himself so it wouldn't sting so much to be denied. Twisting his lips to the side, Yugi fought hard to think of a way to deter the artless tension.

"Another time perhaps." Yami's prolonging gaze came to an end with those words.

'_If there would be time,'_ Yugi quietly conveyed to himself. That vow was stiff as concrete minus the minuscule cracks. Their cooperation with each other would end as soon as this mission was complete. The bond between him, Atem and Yami right now was a shared desire to seek and find Kisara. Anything beyond that would be nonsensical on all their parts because what other reason would they have to be tied to one another?

Besides an indirect connection to Heba . . . Yugi's short run-in with Atem during a temporary romance. . . . Yugi's quiet moment with Yami . . . Kisara's affections for Yugi . . . and the confrontation. . . Yugi shook his head. Damn. There's just too much drama for his tastes.

"Why tell me that?" Yami asked.

Yugi blushed, eyes shifty. "I dunno. You're easy to talk to, I guess. I noticed I spill my soul the most when I'm around you."

The older man's eyebrows drew together slightly. Yugi glanced up to see Yami's gaze pensively watching him carefully.

Yami released a breath through his nose before saying, "Smiling isn't as hard as it used to be," he had no problem admitting and turned away. _Being around you, it's easier. _

A long tense silence prevailed. Yami finished the last dying remnants of his cigarette until it was a bud of orange and he flicked it out the cracked window, releasing the grey smoke through his nostrils. Several times he retrieved a phone from the glove compartment—Yugi counted three different ones—and checked the contents before dialing in, speaking to whomever, or texting before he returned the device. Thirty minutes passed. The morning was steadily coming upon them.

Yugi hadn't caught a glimpse of Atem yet since he woke and often, he found his purple eyes worriedly picking off the figures of people walking along the sidewalk or wandering to their cars in his oversized parking lot. Oh, he just noticed that too. The Impala was nestled under a tree near a shopping mall parking lot, not far from the main highway.

"Is Atem ok?" Yugi found himself asking another unnecessary question.

"He will be," muttered Yami. "Said he needed buy a few things."

"OK." Yugi went back to watching the pedestrians cross to their destinations when the passenger's door swung open and the car dipped with the added weight of Atem. Yugi froze at the sight of him. When had he changed clothes? The man was wearing in a navy blue hoodie, unzipped to show his white wife beater, black saggy jeans, and jet black low top Air Force Ones. His hair was tasseled more so than usual and when he looked at Yugi's eyes in the rearview mirror, the young teen became paralyzed with fright.

There was no color in Atem's gaze; not a stitch, they were so dilated. "Young Buck," he started, his tone coarse and bathed with an ominous tenor. "When we take off, you lay low and you stay low."

Yami frowned, angling his upper torso to face his rival. "The fuck's goin' on?" he carefully whispered.

"Yami," Atem was using that same baritone danger in his voice; the same he'd used to order Yugi a moment ago. "I just got a call from Seth . . . they saw some of your men grab Kisara."

"What?" Yugi gasped. Kisara was kidnapped? No. No that wouldn't make sense. Then why help them at all?

"Be straight with me, Young Blood," Atem continued. "Have you had my child this entire time?"

Yami's frosty, stoic expression darkened. Silence rung forth, piercing the tension like a gunshot. The thick and fierce clash of wine and blood rammed like headstrong bulls determined to outweigh the other. Atem's eyes narrowed. So did Yami's. The seconds ticked away without a batted lash, diverted gaze, or any other movement.

"Yami?" Yugi whispered from the rear, swallowing his disbelief. He altered his gaze between the warring men before settling his eyes on Yami. Yugi drifted to the front, emotions running unhinged. "You didn't do that, did you?"

The other in question did sacrifice his stalemate stare with Atem to answer, looking ready for war.

"Yami, tell us." Yugi touched him this time, unsure why he felt a physical connection was needed to gain the other's attention. It worked to some degree.

Yami's eyes flickered down, half-lidded and concentrated on the fingers gripping his shoulder. He followed the trail of cotton covering the arm and locked eyes with the large purple gemstones, brilliantly transparent as if reflected by direct sunlight. Yami's lips pursed together, he glanced away, a hidden struggle bouncing off his defenses before he sighed.

"No," he responded. "I called . . ." the sting of admission to his rival was unmistakably hard to confess.

Yugi relaxed, squeezing his gratitude into Yami's shoulder. "I bet he called his friends to help look for her," Yugi explained as if reading invisible info cards. "They must've found her first."

Atem's eyes wavered. He nodded his thanks to Yugi. Yami didn't do unnecessary lies. It wasn't in his nature to do so. Believing him took less harm than continuing the futile argument.

"We need to leave then. Seth thinks your men kidnapped her." Atem abruptly said, leaning away to drag his seatbelt across his chest. "Seth's got 'em pinned. They're gettin' drilled."

Yami's brain snapped to attention like a room full of marines. "They're what?!"

"There's a street brawl down on Eastbound and Ninety. My crew's about thirty deep to your twenty."

"Shit!" Yami viciously cursed, putting the car in drive. "Where on Eastbound?"

"Crawford and Chickasaw Ave. down by the park." Atem drew out two guns, locking magazines in each one.

Crawford and Chickasaw? That wasn't far from where they were. Yami was loading bullets in the chambers, and driving with a mastery known only to those who'd done the life long enough to where it was second nature. His eyes nervously switched from man to man, fear gripping his innards.

"Why the fuck didn't you call them off?" Yami shouted.

"How the hell was I supposed to know you called for help?" Atem said not as loud.

"Dammit!" The grey Impala careened down the streets, turns getting sharper and rubber scrubbing pebble sized debris on the asphalt. Everything was happening too fast. Yugi was slung back and forth against the backseat, head nearly colliding on the side window.

Atem unlatched his seatbelt just long enough to recline his chair and grab Yugi by the front of his shirt, his grip as tight as clamped iron. With strength that surprised Yugi, Atem managed to force Yugi's face into the cushion and pressed his palm in the middle of his back, anchoring him in place.

"Don't move from there, you hear?" Atem sneered, hopping back in his chair.

"Atem? Yami?" Yugi's muttered voice echoed his fear, gradually broiling to panic. "Tell me something! What's going on? Where are we going?"

"Stay behind the seats," Atem said harder, sitting up in his seat.

Yugi tried to sit up. "Tell me what's going on?!"

"Do as he says!" Yami barked, giving a savage twist of his steering wheel. "Get down, Yugi!"

Yugi felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand. When he saw the orange and reddish barrage of gunfire come into view his mouth flapped. Cars of all kinds encircled another group, mostly black, reds and blues. Booms thundered. Screams resonated from nearby residences trying to escape being caught in the crossfire.

And they were heading straight for it. "No, no, no!" Yugi was horrified. "Yami—"

"Stay down!"

Glass shards shattered from above Yugi's head. Yugi's screamed. His stomach lurched the same instant he felt a large amount of pressure hook the collar of his hoodie and shoved him between the crevices of the seats. His arms automatically encased his head from the explosions all around. Fragments of sharp glass rained in heaps.

Tire wheels screeched in the distance and the sounds of loud bombs detonating seemed to be right next to the car. Yugi's body vibrated with bolts of terror snaking through his bones. When he opened his eyes, he noticed a very scary detail.

Yami and Atem; they were gone.

* * *

This was beyond what either of the gang leaders had been expecting. Reinforcements were pouring in from all sides. Men and women of all sizes, shapes and races were hauling into in the midst of this heated crusade, the fear of death nowhere in their eyes. Their colors were in full display on t-shirts, their arms, legs, chests and jeans, representing their marked hood and how determined they were to defend the honor of their families.

Loads of them were flowing in from connecting alleyways either in cars or foot. Cars skidded around the corners on two wheels to answer the distress call of their comrades. Infinities, Mercurys, Impalas, Cadillacs, Tahoes, Suburbans, Buicks, Tundras, Kias and GMCs from old school to new, littered the entire area, gunfire blazing from the driver's windows, the passenger's sides and behind open doors. The entire area within a half-mile radius was painted with the crimson of the Red Eye Spades and the royal blue of the Blue Eye Aces.

Atem and Yami were hunkered down below the Impala, not to see the full extent of the war passed a candy apple red Tahoe, parallel to most of the chaos. Bullets were flying everywhere, ricocheting off the grass, kicking up clumps of dirt and rubble. Yami yelled something. Atem couldn't hear it but understood well enough when he was propelled out of the way and a bullet punctured the tire wheel by his head.

Autumn colored eyes squinted up at the bright crimson that beheld a thick emotion. For a moment, just a brief moment, something from the past stirred unwanted feelings. Yami shook his head and destroyed the dread that foolishly erupted in his gut when he thought the bullet was going to kill Atem. The Red Eyes Leader returned his focus on the issue at hand. Atem stored that look in his mind for later usage and crept by Yami's side, hand at the small of his back. As one, they leaned around to witness the calamity at hand.

Yami's grey Impala was stationed on the outer rims of the battle, neutrally parked in the center. His cell vibrated. Yami stuck his hand back there, ignoring the brazen heat radiating from the press of Atem's chest to his back and answered.

"_Where are you?"_ shrieked Valon. _"The whole bloody park's gon' to the dog's! The blue bloods got bees firing off like fire crackers!"_

"I'm here," Yami hollered back. "Did you get the girl?"

Gunfire echoed off the receiver before Aussie came back. "_Yeah, yeah we hid her on the floor!"_

"Where are you?"

"_On-on the south side of Crawford. Dead center. Pinned. Ain't no fuckin' away we're getting 'round this! Fuck!"_ More ammunition let loose in the distance. _"Where the hell are Slim, Thief and J?"_ Yami heard Valon shout to one of the runners. "_We need some fuckin' back up!"_

The phone disconnected.

Yami blinked at it like the very instrument was made of acid. He shoved the cell in his pocket. His mind busily started calculating their next move. Dissembling would be the better option; maybe to get their men to calm down long enough to get the girl.

Yami turned his head to relay the message, only he hadn't known when Atem's face had magnetically moved in until the gentle brush of firm smoothness grazed his lips. The pressure was stiff, skin to skin, laced with surprise and sweet humidity.

A kiss as light as breathing and—shit, how had that happened?

Yami jerked his head back, rigid from head to toe. He looked at Atem whose expression was equally astonished. They . . . they hadn't meant for that to-to happen. At once, they turned their eyes to the ground, minutely licking their lips as if that could get rid of the lingering sting.

"We," Atem broke the heavy tension first, bobbing his adam's apple up and down. "Kisara, where is she?"

Yami blinked, mind still clouded with delirium. He snapped back to his guarded posture, shoulders straight and emotions erased. He lowered himself flat on his stomach and motioned for Atem to mimic him.

"There." He pointed below the car at a bright red, 2010 Ford Tundra fifty yards away. "She's in the backseat."

"Guarded?"

"No, she's—shit!" Yami rolled to the side. He narrowly missed that one. "Under the seats."

"How the hell do we get to her?" Atem snapped, looking through the forest of gunfire and smoke.

Yami gripped his gun. "We gotta separate. You need to call off your men."

Atem slinked back like he was bitten. "And leave them to open fire?"

"I'll call mine off too, idiot!" Yami snarled. "This isn't the time."

"How do I know you'll do the same?"

"You have my word. Just trust me!"

Atem opened his mouth and clapped it shut, his anger sizzling away to nothing. Trust Yami. How long had it been since he heard those words before they entered into battle together? Was it really six years since he last heard those two words?

He sighed. "Yami . . . fuck, don't make me regret this."

Yami smirked. "You won't. Just this one time." He gave his back to Atem, zeroing in on the shooting again.

A black and grey topped, Coupe Deville low-rider suddenly swiveled from around the corner, tires protesting against the concrete. The car crazily bucked over the curb and dived for the center of the action. The windows were tinted too dark for the rival leaders to recognize the new arrivals man. Yami's crimson eyes slid over in Atem's direction_. _Three car doors opened up, barricading the three fiends from view, each one spouting dragon claw .50 caliber air rifles.

Joey's greasy blond hair was recognized immediately, along with Seto's signature trench coat and Akefia's tattoo-stained chest and wild ass smile.

"If ya don't wanna die, I suggest ya ride up outta here!" Joey's monotone voice bellowed. He cranked his gun with one arm and took aim. "Shit's 'bout to get real!"

"Fuck you!" Marik shouted and repositioned himself from afar, flipping the switch on his M16 to rapid fire. The gun stuttered crazily in his hands.

Joey's deranged grin matched his blood-thirsty gaze as he pulled the trigger. The noise of metal blasting earth, renewed the mayhem to a heighted excitement. Booms as loud as cannon fire shook the crowding buildings. Joey discriminated all of his victims, seeing anyone sporting the tiniest bit of blue and gunning them down. Seto flipped the safety off his saw rifle and let off a slew of gunfire, followed by Akefia's maniac laughter filling the air.

Yami savagely cursed in sync to Atem's gasp. The battlefield become twice as dangerous as before. It was tragic. There were agonized cries of soldiers and runners being shot from Yami's side and others from Atem's.

The men, as leaders, were suffering the instinct-like urges to join their fellow bloods and settling the score, but a pact of trust was made for the time being and right now, that was what mattered.

"Get ready," Yami called over the bedlam.

Atem patted his shoulder to signal he'd heard. He low crawled over to the opposite end of the car, planning the time he'd sprint out.

They didn't need to count or send a gesture to the other. Inner knowing took over, years old, and at once, the two bolted, bodies low and guns drawn. Yami saw Atem's dark skinned body out of his peripheral maneuvering around and through the gunfire, slippery as an oil-slicked eel. Yami was handling himself well enough, dipping and dodging the entire way to the closest red blood and ducking by their side. He recognized a few of his grunts by face and performed quick hand signs to prove his legions.

It was hard, navigating from car to car, trying not to startle the shooters into thinking he was a sneak blue blood. Yami managed to settle over half his crewmen, some of them itching to disobey and fire anyway. Yami found Mahado resting against the side of a 2000 Mercury Cougar, loading ammo into a magazine. His eyes widened in recognition of his leader.

"Ya good?" Yami questioned when he crouched by his friend's side.

"Been worse." Mahado wiped off a small blood stain on the sleeve of his grey V-neck. "I'll feel better as soon as we wipe this street of these blue bloods." He loaded the magazine in its chamber and locked it in place.

Yami grabbed the long barrel of Mahado's M16 and pulled it down, shaking his head.

Mahado scowled. "What are you doing?" he yelled over the discorded gunfire.

The pair pushed away to avoid a breezing bullet. Mahado let off a slew of shots in the same direction that bullet originated and sunk down to his leader.

"We can't be careless here!" Mahado said. "Why aren't you helping?"

"Because I need to get to Valon!"

"What? Why?"

Another car came barreling around the corner, stopping right in front of Mercury, blocking any route of escape. That made Yami pause and frown. He didn't recognize this car either. It was a bright white 2012 Ford Fusion also dunning dark tints. Yami didn't have to worry for long whether they were friend or foe because when the doors kicked open, Red Eyes started flooding on the street, armed and dangerous.

This was fucking perfect. Any other time, Yami would be animated with his abundant back up but now they were only hindering him from his mission. The weapons were becoming ten times more lethal and accurate. From Atem's side, Yami noticed sawed rifles perching on the edge of the door windows and letting off a store of ammo. The ascending noise was enough to rip your ears off.

There was no way Yami was going to reach her. The manpower was too strong, too wide and too scattered. If there were the tiniest—Yami frowned. No, that couldn't. "The hell?" He'd be a fool to believe the person he saw emerging out of his bullet-peppered car was Yugi.

Well, he was a fool indeed because the back door snapped shut and the youth started a mad dash towards the east, Yami's leather coat like a cape behind his back. "Damn!"

* * *

Yugi's hands shakily gripped the crumbled edge of the back window, eyes peeking half over the line. Never in his entire life had he seen such mass destruction. Amongst the shouts, calls and explosive turmoil, there was property damaged, destroyed beyond recognition. It wasn't curiosity that had him quaking to the tip of his toes. It was, for that singular instant when he'd been tucked tight into himself, that he heard a shrill cry and wouldn't have believed it for himself until he peered over the window to see.

There was a large sized red Tundra in the distance, fifty or maybe sixty years away, the windows on all sides, blasted off. The screams were muffled, but Yugi knew he'd heard it. When he stared, praying he would see anything, there was a glimmer of white hair glistening from sun's morning dawn. The sight came again and again, scurrying along the line of the window until a tiny head popped up, giant tears melting from the most beautiful blue eyes he was ever relieved to see.

Kisara had enough sense to stay low when the gunfire rose in velocity.

Yugi scoured the field for Yami and Atem, seeing neither. He wasn't sure the pair knew where Kisara was or if they could get to her. Was there time to consider his options? Yugi's sunk back down to avoid a barrage of bullets, legs curled to his chest. He didn't want to get shot again. Once was enough in his lifetime, but . . . damn it, she was right there! Didn't anyone see?

Were these blood lusting fools even aware that a small child was around? What if she was spooked into jumping out of the car and running aimlessly in the crossfire?

That scenario scared Yugi to death. No matter how smart she was, Kisara was still a child. His heart went into triple time as he processed his next course of action. It was risky, it was reckless and Jesus Christ, so deadly. Yugi gulped, peering over the side again. If he wasn't killed by the rampaging shots, Yugi knew Yami and Atem would finish the job.

Well, it was now or never.

Throwing the leather jacket over his head, Yugi gulped in three deep breaths, feeling his heart ba-thump in his chest. It would guide him through the noise, keep his brain worry free of the danger and keep him focused on his main objective.

Yugi thrust the door open, got on his hands and knees, bowed his back and started sprinting right into the madness.

"Oh God, I'm gonna die!"

He was going to die.

He just knew he was going to die.

* * *

"What the hell is he doing?" Atem hollered, outraged.

"Who?"

Atem had reached the firing lines near his cousins, having convinced the lower ranks to cease fire. The higher up he went, the tougher it was to persuade his gunman to knock off the killing spree. Yusei was as close as Atem got before he noticed a rushing lump of blue ambling around like a puppy stuck under a sheet. The orange hoodie was a dead giveaway to the idiot beneath and dear god when this was over, Atem swore he was going to kill him.

That daft moron!

"Sir?" Yusei bumped his shoulder to his T.O.G.'s, rocking his mind back to reality. "Why do you want me to me stop?"

Atem's gaze hardened. "Because I said so. They've got something of mine in there and I can't reach it." Atem jerked Yusei up to his feet and shoved him toward to upper ranks. "Tell them, I said lockdown!"

Lockdown. The terminological word he strictly used for emergencies. Yusei never would've thought he'd hear it with his own two ears for his leader to want to stop shooting at their mortal enemies. It was . . . so painfully absurd that he couldn't help hesitating until Atem roared like a lion for him to hurry up.

Yusei jerked out of his mental shock and hurried off to do as he was told.

Atem in the meantime, let his eyes fall over Yugi's scramble and went ahead of him to see where he was going.

The red truck.

How did—Yugi was going for the truck! Atem panicked. He glanced up and saw Yami's figure hopping over the head of his men to cut Yugi off at the pass. Atem decided to do the same, side stepping and squeezing through the vehicles. It felt like hours, struggling to map his way through the craziness. In between watching out for Yugi, who against some cosmic joke was making it through unharmed, and easing his mind with seeing Yami making it on his own, Atem kept his mind zeroed in on making sure those two weren't hurt and finally being reunited with his daughter. His brow perspired with sweat, his palms felt clammy.

His feet didn't pick up speed until he saw Yugi worm his way to the shielded side of the car and open the car door.

* * *

Yugi counted his blessings when he reached the car, and sprinted around to the other side. "Kisara!" He shouted, struggling to open the door. "Kisara answer me!"

Kisara's head popped up, blue eyes wide and watery. "Yugi?" she screamed. "Yugi get me!" she called over and over making a _'pick me up'_ gesture with her arms.

Yugi clawed at the door, stupid him, momentarily forgetting to pull the latch because his mind was so wild with trying to get her out. Adrenaline soaked his bloodstream like he'd never felt before. His entire body was numb, his mind kept screaming _get her out, get her out_. The gunfire was scaring him. He was going out of his mind. Then he got the door open and like a monkey springing from a tree, Kisara leapt into his open arms, legs wrapped around his torso and arms squeezing his neck.

"Oh God," Yugi whispered, over and over, rocking her tiny body from side to side. Tears bled from his eyes, running like a cracked faucet. "Kisara, Kisara, oh Kisara, you're ok." He held her tight, kissed her cheeks, kissed her brow and stroked her tangled hair like he was just reunited with a long lost relative. Yugi hadn't known how scared he was for this child until she clung to him, shivering, and heartbeat popping against his chest like a snare drum.

"I was scared Yugi." Kisara mouthed against his neck. "I wanted to see you, I'm sorry," she whimpered and sniffled. "Am I in trouble?"

"No, God no, love." Yugi fell to his knees, crushing her fragile body to his chest. "I'm just happy to see you."

Footsteps hustling from both sides, grabbed Yugi's attention. He looked up from Kisara's hair and first saw Yami out the corner of his eye, pace slowing up and then turned to see Atem's stride speeding up into a full out run.

"Kisara!"

Said child lifted her face from Yugi's chest and crumbled. "D-Da-Da," she choked, unable to voice her alleviation. Kisara loosened her grip on Yugi's neck and stepped out with her arms out. Tears poured like a ruptured dam from her eyes.

"Kisara!" In lightning-speed, Atem brutally grabbed his daughter under her armpits, and pulled her into his arms, plastering her face in his neck. He clenched his teeth, fighting like a demon to keep his tears at bay. Atem couldn't breathe, his chest aching as he at long last held his dearest loved one in his arms. His large hand cradled the back of her head, rocking to and fro as tears, stored for years and years began to break free no matter how hard he squeezed his eyes.

"Daddy, I'm sorry." Kisara blubbered incoherently.

"No, no baby, it's ok. Shhh, please, it's ok." He kissed her ear, kissed her neck and brow, over and over. "God, thank you, thank you, thank you." The emotions were like a cork wedged tight in his chest.

Yugi watched the affectionate scene, clenching his sides. No words, no emotions, there was nothing that could detail how much joy overwhelmed him at seeing this. He'd wiped his eyes clean when Atem snagged a handful of his shirt and pull him in a one armed hug, his other arm fastened like a noose around Kisara's body.

"I'll pay you back, Yugi. I swear," Atem fiercely hissed in Yugi's ear. "I owe you so much."

Yugi shook his head. "No, I was glad to help."

"No, no I mean it." Atem released him and pressed his lips to Yugi's forehead. "Anything you ever want, I'll give it to you. Anything."

Yugi planned to keep throwing back Atem's offer, but the wailing sounds of sirens caused the whole roar of gunfire to stop, as if a fire alarm had been flipped in a library. In no time, the gang members started scrambling to their cars, hurrying on foot and some holding back to help a fallen victim before scattering like cockroaches. Despite having a few of their families in the police force, none of them wanted to risk being thrown in jail. The upper ranks called for a retreat and disappeared down the roads. The remaining few sunk inside their cars cooking rubber on the asphalt. The show, for the moment, was over.

But the deafening silence left behind a gruesome scene. Dozens of bodies littered the grounds in pools of gelled blood. Bullet shells glimmered in the open sunshine, revealing the devastation to all.

Yugi eased out of Atem's grasp as fatigue started burning through his muscles.

"We should go." That was Yami's voice.

The pair, Atem and Yugi with glazed eyes, turned around to face the Red Eyes O.G. who'd kept his distance up until now. With his hands shoved deep in his pockets, Yami cocked a small smile at Kisara's curious face and winked.

"Stay safe, Little One." Then he glanced down at Yugi. "I'll take you home."

Yugi was too emotionally drained to argue. He nodded and followed.

"Wait, Yami," Atem pulled at his rival's bicep, halting him from his escape. "You . . . you didn't have too. . . God knows what would've happened if you hadn't—"

Yami held up his palm, waving it a little. "It's over, she's safe. That's all that matters."

"It's not over Yami. I'm indebted to you as I am to Yugi." Atem insisted, cracking his first smile in hours. "Whether you approve or not isn't up to you. You know what that entitles out here. I'll try my damnest to make it up to you."

Yami snorted, pivoting on his heel. "Do as you wish. That doesn't mean I'll accept. Let's go." He started for his car, motioning for Yugi to follow.

The young teen smiled one last time at the father-daughter duo and went off after Yami.

Yugi tilted his head to the side, studying Yami's profile. The mask he had up was doing an amazing job of camouflaging his exhaustion. Yugi noticed it in the sluggish stroll Yami tried to straight every few steps and the times his fingers flexed in his pockets and the downcast of his usually leveled eyes.

"You're tired," Yugi said.

Yami chuckled. "No shit. Aren't you?"

"Very," Yugi didn't think once he got in bed, he'd be able to leave it. His muscles were so tender now.

"You're an idiot, you realize."

Damn. Yugi knew that was coming and should've braved himself for the sternness woven in each word.

"Don't . . ." Yami paused, lips twitching in a funny shape. He blew out an agitated sigh and cocked an eyebrow down at Yugi's puzzled expression. "Just don't do it again. Alright?"

"Yeah, yeah, I promise." Yugi covered a tiny smile, reaching his unharmed hand up to scratch behind his head, sheepishly. "That was pretty stupid, huh?"

"Immensely so."

_But not without its brave intentions._

They reached the bullet tattered vehicle and hopped inside. Yami shook his head at the damage. This was going to cost a good grip to fix at one of his shops. He glanced over at Yugi, to find the boy already out cold, door not even shut, like he'd been shot with a tranquilizer. Shaking his head, Yami seized Yugi's wrist and gave a hard pull, yanking the boy in the rest of the way and using his other hand to grasp Yugi's forehead and tilt it back against the headrest.

What a foolish, ignorant, stupid, crazy . . . just flat out. . . Yami couldn't even finish, looking at the pure innocence relaxed in Yugi's face. Rolling his eyes, he closed the passenger door and started the car for Kame's Game Shop.

There was, the smallest microscopic smile on his face that held a fraction of admiration he hadn't felt in a long time. The blundering fool was something else.

* * *

**TBC: I'm emotionally drained . . . but I think you'll quite enjoy the next few chapters. ~crawls away~**


	13. Special Offerings

**Author's Note:** Please forgive mistakes. Enjoy!

_~Side Note: Corrections Made~_

* * *

**Special Offerings**

* * *

The presence of Domino City's Police forces had the streets unusually tamed. Patrol vehicles crept through the allies, tight corners and neighborhoods, searching for anyone that resembled one of the hooligans responsible for the street brawl a few hours ago. Word traveled fast that Duty Chief Truesdale had his men nitpicking at any civilian that fit the typical gang-banger description. He wasn't messing around. Young men were pulled aside and searched without probable cause. Any teenage girl spotted carrying a large purse or handbag, sporting their gang family colors and tattoos, were thoroughly investigated.

If found to have anything relating to illegal activity, they were apprehended and taken downtown for further interrogation. The evidence could be as little as an unmarked prescription bottle, a dime bag or balled up college paper; it didn't matter to them. The cops were, in the eyes of the fearful citizens, simply trying to restore order to the still shaken portion of Domino City. However, the rebellious youths of Domino considered the officer's power force to be above what was necessary to handle a handful of the gang members.

Because of the number of rounds being dangerously close to the double digits, the Red Eyes and Blue Eyes played it smart by laying low until the heat wore off radar. Now, it wasn't out of apprehension of being thrown in the slammer for a long period of time. Majority of the gang members have spent days, weeks, months and even years behind bars. It's just that they weren't planning to go back anytime soon and regardless of the beef that went down, there was money to be made and they couldn't handle business as well in Metro.

Also, there was this tiny little bit of bribery going on within the police forces, involving certain men and women pledging their legions to either Yami or Atem. They were busily seeking out their leader's enemies and making quiet trips to the docks to finish up where their comrades left off. The roadways and rural areas would be naked of red and blue for a while. None of them wanted any problems with the law enforcement—friend or foe—because mostly, there would be one bitch-bastard that wanted a raise, who didn't mind shooting first and asking questions later.

Joey wasn't planning on given these dickheads the benefit of cracking his head with a nightstick. He'd found refuge in a rundown warehouse as close to Medium grounds as he could stomach being near. The police rarely made their marks in this sector out of respect for the Medium gangs having control of their own turf. It'd been three, maybe four hours since the affray down on Eastbound and shit, his adrenaline was still surging like a torpedo in his veins.

He had to have laid out three blue bloods. That alone was enough to a put a smile on his pale, dried lips as he clutched at his thigh, wrapped in layers and layers of his ripped t-shirt. A dark, cerise stain blended in with his True Religion grey and black belted jeans. Marik had got him. That fake ass, dumb ass, sissy ass bastard caught the front of J.R.'s leg when he'd stopped to reload his gun. It was flesh wound, nothing too life threatening, but damn if this shit didn't hurt.

Going to the hospital was out of the question. One of the clinic nurses he called, warning that that tight-ass Truesdale had every hospital and small time clinic on lock for anyone coming in with a gunshot within a ten hour time span. Being one of the senior leaders automatically put J.R. on the Public Enemy list of suspects. He had no choice but steadfast until he could think of something. Contacting his family was out. Seto went on the D.L. as soon as they booked it out of there. Akefia had went straight home to hide in his and Ryou's house until the shit died down. And Yami, well, he was too wrapped up with bailing his members out of prison and restoring order.

It was best that everyone stayed separated. Without being in a huge cluster fuck, there wouldn't be a lot of attention drawn to them. Joey was on his own for a while; at least until he could figure out his next plan of action. Which was hopefully going to be soon because the humidly of the early morning was sticking to his armpits and causing a nasty sweat-slim to film on his skin. There was no air circulation in this building, save for the third story windows and one wide window panel, filtering in sunlight through the glass. The interior was a dust fair, full of snapped plaid wood, abandoned car parts, and left over trash from God knows what.

_Beep! Beep!_

And there went his cell phone. "Shit," J.R. sourly hissed. God was having fun with him today. Joey released some of the pressure he'd had cupped over his thigh and scowled slightly at the crusty chips of red on his palm. The blood was drying up. Good. Only problem was, being stuck in here was likely to get him an infection. And to add more salt to injury, he was stuck here because the cops glued to the streets. Joey had a better chance of finding cover with one of the runners who lived nearby.

J.R. swore with every fiber of his being to get Marik's sissy fucking ass just as soon as he got better. Just thinking about that blond haired maniac pissed Joey off. He withheld the tight gasp pushing up his throat. Staying in this spot so long made his legs go numb and all squirmy, like a pile of ants were speeding beneath his skin.

"Let's see here," J.R. shifted until his back was balanced on the wall and angled his head up to peek out the mildew fogged window. The last time he'd checked, there'd been two marked officers cruising the road. J.R. timed their rotations to figure out that they were doing a one mile stroll around this general area—there were so many cops, there was barely enough room to spread them out. That gave him ten minutes max to get up and go.

That was simple enough. Hell, he'd tried it. It's just his stupid leg kept giving out before. If the blood was dried, it probably meant it was clotted up. But J.R. wasn't going to be foolish enough to check. He'd been shot before, but he still wouldn't consider himself a health expert.

OK, OK, OK. The last car just went by. If he could just manage to get up—"Fuck!" No good. His leg, which was nothing more than a pitiful graze in his eyes, was holding him back. But he had to run. Being cooped up in this joint was driving him to thinking. And him thinking lead to emotions he couldn't deal with right now.

"Come on, come on, shit, almost, come on. There." Joey worked with all his strength, determination and grit to push himself in an upward squat, awkwardly sticking his sore leg out. He shimmied his shoulders against the plastered wall until he was up to a standing point. Here, he cocked his leg up, and used the wall as his brace.

He'd already wasted a good four minutes contemplating. J.R. carefully limped toward the cracked entrance and stuck his head out to see. He tugged the grey fitted he had on his head down and with efforts that rivaled a bull charging straight into a steel wall, J.R. started trucking down the sidewalk. This was going to have to be done bit by bit. The further he ventured into Red Eye territory he got, the more cops, but at the same time, he had the advantage of being found by one of his family members and hidden some place safe.

He congratulated himself on managing to walk or hell hobble five blocks before taking a rest between the gap of a stash house and a convenient store. Perching up on top of one of the trash cans, Joey cradled his tender thigh between his fingers and pressed down around the gash to ease the stinging.

"Joseph?"

'_Jesus, Mary and Joseph, this guy knew how to pick a time and place.' _Now, if J.R. could do something about this fruity blush rising on his cheeks, maybe he wouldn't feel extra put off. The blond concentrated some effort into forcing a cocky smirk at the teenage brunet looking at him like he'd just seen a two headed unicorn.

"Hey, what's up Tristan?" J.R. asked keeping his voice even and hopefully the wince from his body language.

Tristan, who was dressed in a brown sleeveless vest, a yellow V-neck t-shirt and baggy smoke grey Levi jeans with white Converse shoes, shifted a brown grocery bag from one side of his arm to the other. He used his free hand to scratch his head curiously.

"Not much man, but what'cha doin' out here?"

Joey had gone silent for a span of thirty seconds. His mind was a muddy ozone full of uncharted warmth making itself known. That same warmth nestled itself in Joey's stomach like microwaved hot chocolate, making him swallow the gathering of moisture. God was going through a horny stage when he made Tristan. Nobody had any business, looking that good in jeans. That shirt was flirting with his pectorals and if Joey stared hard enough, he could see Tristan's round nipples pushing at his shirt.

"Shit, what happened to you?"

Joey noticed Tristan going straight for his leg.

"Your leg's screwed. Why haven't you seen a doctor?"

"It's no biggie. I just got into a pinch on East. S'cool."

"You call this cool?" Tristan pointed with dramatic emphasis at the wide red path painted on Joey's pants leg. "You can save a dozen people with all this blood. You need a doctor."

"I said its fine. Don't worry 'bout it." Joey waved off dismissively. "A couple pieces of ice, an Advil, and I'll be back rollin'. Trust me, I've had way worse than this." A thought hit him and suddenly a grin that could make the Grinch blush spread across Joey's face. "Why all the motherin' eh? You shouldn't care what happens to a gang banger, right?"

Tristan's face looked twice as interesting when it was three different kinds of red. "My bad about that before."

Another wave off. "I'm just messin' with'cha. It's funny to see ya blush. S'cute." He winked.

Tristan rolled his eyes, but it didn't hold the irritated annoyance like it once did. "Well, if you're able to flirt, guess you're fine." The brunet straightened up from when he'd been examining Joey's leg. Tristan placed his fist on his hip, cocking up an eyebrow. "So, doctor or no?"

"No."

The brunet sighed. "You're an idiot—"

"Excuse me?"

"I said you're an idiot," Tristan repeated harder. "You're being stubborn. Why won't you go get this checked out?"

"Why do you care?"

"Because I'd like to go home knowing I talked a blond thug out of bleeding to death." Tristan traded his bag to the other arm. "Or at least, I'd like to know I helped him the best I could."

"Awww, that's so sweet." Joey poked out his bottom lip, eyes glossy like a plastic doll. "I didn't know ya cared."

Tristan didn't smile at that.

Joey noticed and sighed, bunching his lips to the side of his mouth and turning his profile to the brunet. "Look," he started slowly, losing the tensing tone, "it ain't like I'm sitting here waitin' to die. That shit on East's got the police molestin' the streets. They're rounding up red bloods and blue bloods left and right. They even have the hospitals secured. I go out there, I'm gonna get arrested."

"Oh." That made sense then. Tristan glanced over his shoulder. That would explain why on his way here he'd seen so many police cars roaming the city. He'd gotten a voicemail from the school earlier saying all schools within the city limits were on lockdown for the next two days due to the order of the Deputy Chief Truesdale. Tristan had called Yugi to see how he was doing, but Grandpa Solomon had answered saying he'd found Yugi sleeping in the shop. How'd he get there, no one knew.

"What are you doin' 'round here anyway?" Joey stiffened from the sudden throb of his leg as he leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees. "This don't look like your type of place and why the hell aren't you in school?"

Tristan shrugged. "It's cancelled until further notice. I was bored. My neighbor can't do her own shopping 'cause of a busted knee." Tristan patted the brown baby bag. "So, I'm doin' it for her."

Well, well, well. Cute, smart, bad attitude and helpful. This kid was just adding more and more attraction to himself.

"Shouldn't you be gettin' that to her then?" asked J.R.

"I would, but." Tristan tapped his chest with a crooked smile. "I got a heart. And mine is sayin' if I leave, I'm not gonna be able to think straight knowin' I left you alone and hurt."

Joey's cockiness sunk with the blush tinting his face, cheek and neck, slanted brown eyes shifting from side to side. This kid was, damn, he was something else. Joey hadn't ever met anyone willing to lead him a hand who wasn't in his family.

"Besides, you're cool. Anyone who helps out my friends, is ok by me."

Joey twisted his head around, eyes narrowed. "Helped who? I don't go 'round dishin' charity kid. Ya better watch it, there."

"Whatever." Tristan chuckled. "My friend Tea? You gave her a job. Mr. Jason is a friend of my moms and you made sure he wasn't left out on the streets. And Yugi told me you were the one to take him to the hospital when he got jumped."

"So what if I did?" Joey met those butterscotch brown eyes. "That doesn't mean I'm soft!"

"Nah, I'm not sayin' you're soft. You just got morals and I respect people like that."

Joey really wished his face wasn't so hot. He hadn't blushed this much since kindergarten and it was pissing him off. How can someone have this intense effect on you? It was poison. Side effects included a fucked up mind, a fucked up stomach, and flushed skin. Joey did not like these sensations at all. It was as if he contracted a disease he didn't mind suffering from.

"Anyway, we need to get you somewhere before you turn into a Dexter case."

Joey perked up like a child discovering fireworks. "You watch Dexter?"

"Man, who doesn't? I love his show. Just a sec," Tristan walked over and offered his shoulder. "Grab on."

Joey made a face. He looked up and saw Tristan's boyish grin softly urging him on. Joey couldn't deny him. The teen was giving him a chance to keep some of his dignity by grabbing onto his shoulder instead of wrapping his whole arm around him like he was a broken victim. Joey slid off the trash top, landed with a wobbly jolt on his feet and cupped his palm on Tristan's shoulder. Together, they walked out of the alley way, double checking for cops and started down the opposite direction of where Joey had been going. He didn't mind though because this close, right here, next to Tristan he was able to leech off the brunet's warm. He smelled nice too. Like Irish Spring and butter popcorn. Joey's hand absently squeezed the ball of Tristan's shoulder. The muscles there were solid as a rock.

"So what's your favorite episode?"

Joey blinked stupidly. "Huh?"

"Just makin' conversation. Your favorite episode? Dexter? What is it?"

"Oh, oh, oh umm, that one where he was pretending to be hurt to catch those paramedics."

"Word? That's one called Those Kind of Things. All kinds of drama went down on that one."

"How'd ya know?"

"Dude, I have six seasons of Dexter at home. I worship this guy. Just not as much as the Sopranos. I started watching that a while back."

Hope blossomed inside Joey's chest. That fluttery feeling was brushed aside and ignored for another time. He was comfortable talking like this with this kid. Different topics blended into the conversation during the limping trip. Favorite foods was somehow brought up. Joey learned Tristan had a stomach that rival his own. They both liked cars, but Tristan's passion leaned more towards motorcycles. Once he got started on that subject, his mouth ran like a ruptured dam. He went on and on about the accessories he could fix up on his bike, what he wouldn't mind seeing more of on other motorcycles, his favorite color and how he managed to snag his own motorcycle despite his mother's protests.

"Sorry," he suddenly apologized. "I'm rambling."

"No, no, no." Joey's shaggy blond hair swished back and forth. "S'cool. S'cool. I like hearin' ya talk." He really did. The way Tristan's tone would change when he talked about motorcycles, it was as if he'd been transported to a different universe. His passion for them was incredible and contagiously appealing. Shit, it made Joey consider getting one of his own.

"J.R.?"

Fuck. Joey grimaced from his achy thigh and because he recognized that voice. He peered over the line of his shoulder to see one of the runners and a couple of others, dressed down in grey, white and black to conceal their allegiance. Only those within the red bloods would recognize faces on the spot.

"Ya good?" One of them asked, eyeballing Tristan cautiously when he noticed the red stain on his leader's leg.

Joey didn't like that look. He narrowed his gaze at that kid particularly until he withered on the sidewalk. "Chill." He adjusted himself, bending his knee to ease some of the pressure. "He's with me. Make sure everyone else knows that."

"Yes sir," the middle young man said. "O.L.G. has us scouting around the place for leftovers. Said she wants roll call down by midnight to see who we're missing."

Of course Mai's running around throwing orders. Joey sighed. Looks like this was the end of his fun time.

"Wait, you'll be ok?" Tristan shifted closer. "You trust these guys?" He winched and blushed and realized how much he'd enjoyed Joey's company. It was like ruining a good show because you had to go to work. The guy was alright to be around.

"I'll be fine," Joey confirmed with a stern expression. "Ya need to go home anyway." Unwillingly, he let his hand fall away. The warmth was gone the moment it dropped to Joey's side. _Had it always felt this cold? _He vaguely wondered.

"You sure you'll be safe?"

Joey's lips tilted on the sides. "I promise. For real, don't worry. Just to prove it to ya, how's about we meet at Insanity on Friday? Eight o'clock good? My treat."

Tristan's fist popped on his hip and he threw a saucy grin. "You'll regret that. I told ya I eat enough to feed an army."

"That's good, 'cause I can eat enough to leave a country starved." He winked and turned on his heel to limp over to his comrades while he was still talking sense. Looking at Tristan's kind smile was making Joey's stomach quiver and make him go soft in the eyes.

"Cool, I'll see ya then!" Tristan called out.

"Ya better," Joey tossed back. "Alright boys, let's go before Mai starts her period." The trio of runners immediately rushed to his aid and helped their leader down the sidewalk.

Tristan remained rooted in place, watching the blond haired senior leader grow smaller and smaller. Inside, a piece of the brunet was already missing the weight pressed on his arm and Joseph's rough voice. A smile pinched the dimples in his cheeks when Joey glanced over his shoulder and threw a deuce sigh before turning around the corner. The blond wasn't a bad guy at all. Tristan was actually looking forward to seeing him again.

* * *

Yugi lounged on the beanbag at the edge of his bed, allowing himself to stay as remotely silent as possible. He didn't feel like talking aloud or reading or anything. Silence was something he was striving for after all the chaotic scenes from before. The action seemed like a distant memory that refused to be forgotten. The hum of _Chaka Khan's, Through the Fire_, soothed his adrenaline-high. The harmonic piano notes whined in the background, joined by the occasion tip tap of snare drums and if he listened closely, the shrill swish of bell chimes added to the rhythm.

School was called out for the time being, thank goodness. Yugi wasn't sure he would've been able to attend, what with his head feeling like the inside of a struck gong. He'd changed out of his dirty clothes, showered and returned to sit about in a white, grey and black flannel pajama pants and a red wife beater.

Heba's hoodie was folded on Yugi's stomach where his braided fingers rested on top, while his round purple eyes stared at the ceiling. So much had happened in the span of nearly eight hours. It was nearing the late afternoon now. Yugi left his room twice since Yami dropped him off; to make sure his grandfather was still sleeping and to use the bathroom. Otherwise, Yugi just kept himself secluded.

His bedroom door was locked. Nothing against his grandfather, but the older man had a weird knack for sensing Yugi's turmoil and making the youth spill his guts. Yugi didn't feel like talking. His grandfather would understand.

Yugi needed the quiet to meditate Atem and Yami's argument and how willing they'd been to protect him. Their words continued to plague the teen's mind.

"_I never betrayed you," Atem raged back, eyes paper slit thin and teeth grinding. "Not once. I was always there. I was the one who helped you through your troubles. I held you when you thought you had nothing else to live for—"_

_"—for your own selfish gain, and your father's, Atem. All of you thought of me as nothing more than a damn dog to tame," Yami yelled, stopping the car and getting right in his rival's face. "Did you think about how I felt those times I was forced into doing those horrendous acts? How the hell could you possibly classify that as help? Only one person really cared for me without asking for anything in return—"_

_"—and where is he now? Six feet under! He, the one you still so helplessly cling to like some deprived pup, was the one who turned traitor, yet I suffered for his mistakes! So help me, if that bastard were alive now, I'd put him flat on his back!"_

_"Was he the only one to turn traitor?"_

_"—I didn't do anything besides reveal him for what he was. When the truth revealed itself, even then I gave him the benefit of the doubt and what happened? He turns it on both of us and high tails it out. You should have trusted me, Yami! I would've never hurt you the way he had—"_

_"I was scared too!"_

It was like. . . Heba was this middle man wielded neck-deep in this drama. Whatever he did must've created a rift in Atem and Yami's relationship. Yugi sat up, folding his legs on top, eyes trained on the floor. As far as he'd assumed, Atem and Yami had always been enemies. Red Eyes and Blue Eyes were sworn enemies until the end of time. The two didn't mix. So if they had an affair, had it been an undercover romance? Had Heba interfered? If so, how and why? Heba wasn't the type of person to purposely create drama. He'd been the brooding, quiet person who always watched from afar. He couldn't have been all bad. Yami and Atem said it themselves.

_"No, not always."_

_"In the beginning no. Heba was . . ." _

Atem hadn't finished what he'd been about to say. This didn't make sense. Why hesitate? Had he been in love with Heba too? Was it a struggle between the three? No, no, that's stupid. Heba wouldn't. . . well. . . but then again—Yugi's expression dampened—from all he's learned so far, did Yugi really know Heba as much as he thought?

Yugi relaxed against his beanbag again, closing his eyes. His big brother was such a problem. If he wasn't ruining Yugi's image as a baseball player, he was fucking the lives of others off field, which in turn, domino'ed all the way down to Yugi. Why on earth would Heba get himself involved with the most notorious gangs in the entire city? He had nothing to gain and more to lose. Didn't he think about the consequences?

No, of course not. Because he would act first and question later, the fool. Yugi sighed and rolled to his side. He was wrong. Staying in here was only making him think too much. He needed to get out. The teen stood and went to his drawers to find some clothes. A pair of black Levi Jeans and a grey Nike muscle shirt was pulled out and put on with a pair of his grey and white mid-top Air Force Ones. He put a comb through his hairs, forcing the spiked tips down into a spiked bob and shook his bangs off his face.

A walk to the Galilee's café sounded like a good idea.

Yugi passed his grandfather coming down the stairs. "I'll be back."

"Where are you off too?" asked Solomon.

"I'm heading to Galilee's. You want me to bring you something back?"

Solomon's beamed. "Oh, one of those cakes with the cream inside."

"A Cream Bonnet?" Yugi corrected, chuckling. "How many?"

"Three."

"'Kay, three it is." Yugi stepped down a few stairs, then slapped his forehead. "Oh gosh, Grandpa, sorry. I didn't ask if you'd need help with the shop first."

"No, no. Business is kinda slow. You go on and be careful with your arm."

Well if he insisted. Yugi went downstairs to the little safe kept behind a glass case and withdrew forty dollars. He'll order a BLT sandwich and a pitcher of Lemonade too. His grandfather had a fondness for the stuff. He locked up and left the store for the dirt road leading out into the Red Eye Territory, which he strangely noticed was absolutely vacant of its usual occupants. There wasn't a single runner in sight and regardless of the beefed up security, there should've been a sprinkle of the men around.

Yugi guessed the Duty Chief wasn't messing around this time. That was fine. Yugi didn't feel like mean-mugging anyone today. The paint infested buildings seemed ominous, cracked windows jagged and edgy like any minute a ghostly figure would peek from around a corner. Yugi shoved his hands in his pockets, kicking a can along the way to Galilee's. It was so weird. There wasn't a car out here. The Red Eyes took every shred of their existence and just vanished.

He snorted. Guess they weren't as invisible as they self-proclaimed.

Yugi spotted the lime green rooftop up ahead with Galilee etched in cursive on the canopy. The parking lot had only three cars; a 2004 Kia, a 2012 Nissan Altima and a 2011 Honda Civic. That was weird. With school being on lockdown the place should've been crawling with high school students. Kenny G's familiar light hearted melodies were caressing the entrance when Yugi walked inside. He saw one of the waitress's collecting someone's order and an elderly man watching tennis on the twenty inch television.

Yugi froze like a deer before a hunter when he saw the profile of someone he'd hope he'd seen the last of. Considering all that's happened, Yami didn't look as worn down and beaten as someone would after a gunfight. His face, chiseled in its usual handsome scowl, was staring out the window. He'd changed into a bright red and black rimmed windbreaker suit. His hair was flared up like he'd taken a blow dryer directly to it to create this volcanic outburst. His red eyes were calm and intensely focused.

Yugi wondered what held his attention or what it was he saw that no one else did.

One of the young waiter's from the back came forth with a tray holding a bowl of French Onion Soup, a tall glass of sweet tea, and a plate of the Café's Special Salad.

"Here you go, Yami," the brunet young man voiced a little too cheerfully in Yugi's opinion. The guy was about his height, maybe an inch taller with mustard brown hair on top and the rest showering around his crown like a chocolate waterfall. His hazel eyes didn't reflect a tiny speck of fear in them the way everyone else would when they approached Yami.

Who was he and how was he so familiar with the red blood leader? Yugi wondered.

"Extra caramel onions, no chives, and light sweet tea." The waiter placed the plates before his customer, all smiles, all charm. "I gotta go back to get you fresh rolls. They just put a new batch in, if you're willing to wait."

Yami turned around to meet the youth's eyes. "That's fine."

The waiter giggled. "You don't seem moody today." He made himself comfortable on the other side, resting his chin in his palm. "Why's that?"

Yami ripped off the paper from his straw and stuck it in his glass. The dressing was drizzled over his salad and pepper was sprinkled in his soup.

"No reason," he answered after his meal was properly prepared. "What about you? You're doing well in school." He stated more than asked.

The waiter winked. "Duh, of course. But Zane's been a real pain about my grades lately. I brought home a B the other day and he said if I had time to gloom about Yusei, I had enough time to study harder."

"You two still together?"

"Well . . ."

Yugi heard the waiter hesitate. His curiosity was steadily getting the better of him. Before Yugi knew it his ears and eyes were zeroed in on every word spoken between waiter and customer.

The waiter sighed, lightly drumming his fingers on the table top. "I'm not sure he's worth staying with anymore. I barely see him and the time we do spend together is always short. I know he was involved with that fight on Eastbound. He doesn't answer my phone calls and when he does, it's to say he's ok and not worry." The waiter's hazel eyes glossed like wet sand. "But I do worry. I can't help it. Every time I look at the news and hear about a blue or red eyes being gunned down, I think he's caught in the crossfire or in jail. Zane keeps telling me to move on but . . . he's never been in love before. It hurts."

Yugi waited for Yami's reaction.

It was a curt, slow nod; the only gesture he gave to indicate he was listening. He started eating his food in neat, precise bites, eyes often looking back up to stare right at the waiter's face while he continued on.

"I've been thinking about calling it quits with Yusei. Him and this whole gang thing just isn't working for us. He keeps saying he's doing it for the money but I know there's no way he'll be able to get out of there scott free. There's always a price to pay." The waiter wiped at his wet eyes.

Yami finished off a cherry tomato and dapped at his chin. "Isn't there another boy who comes in here to visit you?"

The waiter's face transformed into a raspberry. "Um, well," he chuckled awkwardly. "Well, Jessie's just a friend."

"Who visits whenever you're on shift, brings gifts and takes you out to lunch."

The waiter gasped. "How did—never mind." He waved off, momentarily forgetting that this was the Red Eyes Leader he was talking too.

"Jaden."

Said waiter straightened at the low tenor way Yami called his name. Both his red eyes were fierce and chilled, like frozen blood suspended in mid sunlight.

"You're being foolish," Yami calmly said. "No amount of waiting will change whatever lies Yusei's told you. There's only one way out of a gang. That goes for my side and the blue bloods. You'll be better off finishing up school and thinking about a future with someone who's got dreams that don't involve looking over his shoulder every three seconds, running from the law and endangering the lives of his loved ones."

Jaden slinked back into the rubbery cushion, eyes straying to the tabletop. His shoulders slumped like the weight of the world just glued itself there. Yugi immediately felt sorry for him.

"You deserve better. Don't continue this relationship. You'll be the only one hurting in the end." Yami scooped up a mouthful of soup and sipped. He hummed from the salty flavors heated on his tongue and lowered his spoon for another helping.

"I wish. . . I just really want this to work. I love him."

"Perhaps more than he cares for you."

Jaden deflated more and bowed his head.

"There's a time to think this over and it isn't here. Leave me to my meal."

"Alright." Jaden grimly nodded and stood. "Did you need anything else?"

Yami nodded. "Tell that young man to come over here."

Yugi flinched like he'd been slapped. Jaden's gaze immediately locked with his and the he stared like he'd spotted a pig take flight.

"Oh, I'm sorry!" Jaden rushed over to get a menu and a wrapped up pack of utensils. He faced Yugi with a forced smile. "My name's Jaden Yuki, I'll be your waiter. Would you step this way, please?"

Yugi stood where he was, mouth jarred. He stared at the back of Yami's head. His chin nearly touched his chest. There was a very brief instant when Yami glared over his shoulder and turned back to his meal. Yugi shook his head. He smiled kindly at the waiter named Jaden.

"Sorry, I'm ready."

Jaden tilted his head, puzzled. He bowed and swipe his hand out for Yugi to go ahead. The baseball player took the lead and sat vertically from Yami. Yugi was given his menu, he ordered his drink and requested a few minutes to decide on what he'd order. Jaden left the two to themselves while he went to the kitchen to check on the bread.

Yami stared at Yugi. Yugi blinked at Yami. He folded his arms on the table, head cocked to the side and purple eyes narrowed.

"So . . . you're just a regular counselor aren't you? Listening to everyone's problems and offering advice."

"If that's what you want to call it," Yami murmured. "You would know, wouldn't you?"

"Whatever. You wanted to talk to me?"

"I did."

"Why?" Yugi questioned right away.

"Because." Yami wrapped his lips around his straw and sucked in a mouthful of tea before continuing. "I wanted to see how you were doing," he coolly said.

Yugi leaned away. "Why?"

"Do I need a reason?"

"Yes, don't you always?"

"It's simple concern. You've been through a lot."

"So have you," Yugi countered. "You don't look too shaken up. I guess that's to be expected from someone like you. Which is why I wanna know why you care how I'm feeling."

Yami straightened up and studied Yugi closely. The right side of his lips lifted. "I don't have a motive. After all that's happened. . ." the rest he left for Yugi to fill in.

And the teen mentally did. But he went as further back then this morning's gunfight. His memories retreated to the time a bullet pierced his arm. His fingers absently touched where the scar would always remain.

"I owe you for the wrong I've done to you."

"Just one wrong?"

"There is only one."

Yugi stared. "Why?"

Yami chuckled this time. "Is that the only word you can say?"

"No," Yugi said smartly.

Yami lifted his fist under his chin "In any case, I'm not beyond making amends where they're due." Yami lifted his fist under his chin.

"You're apologizing?" Yugi said in disbelief.

"Like hell," Yami grumbled. "I don't apologize when I do things I meant to do. However," he looked at Yugi with a strange expression. "I will right what's wrong. It's why I want to talk to you. You're owed that much."

"You're not making sense," And for that case, why was Yugi wasting his time talking to this man? "Listen, whatever it is you gotta say, it can be left alone. We've been around each other more times than I'm comfortable with."

"You'll hear what I have to say, then you're free to do as you wish."

"I don't have to listen to anything."

"Yeah, you do," Yami's voice hardened a smidge. "After I tell you about my relationship with your brother . . . then you can decide whether it's worth listening to. . ."

* * *

**TBC: I apologize for the lack of flare in this chapter. In order to keep to my schedule, I decided to post this as is. To everyone following this story, I won't be able to update between the dates of July6-19, 2013, due to my military obligations. Yeah, I'm in the army lol. Updates will resume as soon as I come back home. ^_^**


	14. Connection

**Author's Rant:** Well, it's time to get back on schedule. I'm glad to be home and thanks to everyone who welcomed me back. Enjoy the next chapter!

~_Side Note: Corrections Made~_

* * *

**Connection**

* * *

The sudden thirst for learning something new about his brother was overwhelming. Yugi managed to keep his jaw hinged shut and his lips sown tight, though his large eyes revealed the rapidly growing desperation to know. Yami said it himself that he would explain their relationship and see if the rest was worth telling.

Everything Yugi had to hold onto about Heba's was at best; mostly childhood memories of goodness and mystery. The man before him held the key to unlocking more secrets and hidden riddles shrouding Heba and his past. At this point, Yugi was at Yami's mercy.

The teen's lips parted to moisten his dry lips with an even dryer tongue. His was mind surging. He was vaguely aware of Yami's intense stare, awaiting for when Yugi would give permission for him to continue. However, did Yugi really want to learn the obviously blemished details about Heba's past? There had to have been something deep going on between Heba, Yami and Atem; well, especially for Yami.

"You said that it'd be a discussion for another time," Yugi mumbled, fingers tapping against the tabletop. He peered up at Yami through his eyelashes. "Why now? What made you decide to talk about this sooner rather than later?"

"I thought I already answered why," Yami answered.

"To right a wrong, I know, but it's just, I dunno." Yugi sighed, fully lifting his head to look directly in Yami's cool gaze. "I wanna know everything about my brother. God, it'd be great to have more to remember him. But if he didn't want anyone knowing about a part of his life, especially Grandpa, it had to be for a reason. I feel as if I'm invading his privacy. Would it be fair for you to tell me about what happened between you and him just to ease your conscience?"

"Ease my conscience?" Yami represented those three words, slowly as if the taste of each letter lingered in his mouth. "Perhaps, it would soothe some of the burden I've carried in my life. Sharing this with someone else may indeed put my conscience, as you say, at ease." Yami braided his fingers under his chin and cut his eyes away from Yugi to stare out at the gathering sunlight beaming a pool of shine. "His memory has been a mental struggle to keep buried alone."

"So telling me what happened between you two would be a stress reliever?"

"No," Yami said with an air of precision and sharpness. "It's more of a release. I cherished him the way a child would its first friend." His eyes were still focused on the world outside as he spoke and yet, Yugi could imagine Yami transporting himself to those cherished times. "Wouldn't you want to know a piece of your brother's life? If just to lessen the regret of not knowing?"

"Yes," Yugi softly replied. "I would love to know everything about him. I just wish I didn't feel like I was shedding light on anything dark."

"You're his brother. If anyone, more than myself, deserves to know everything about Heba, it's you Yugi."

At the sound of his name, Yugi relocked his eyes with Yami's. The defense around those wine colored eyes was incredibly dense, foreshadowing a thin layer of softness. It was small, very tiny, but Yugi knew he could see it there, a manifesting emotion specifically reserved for Heba.

"Were you two close?" Yugi found himself needing to know.

Yami arched an eyebrow, but immediately responded. "Yes, we were. Perhaps, the relationship was more one-sided than an equal exchange of feelings."

'_So, it really was a romantic relationship_.' Yugi figured as much, though he couldn't say he was thrilled to hear about it for some reason. Heba hadn't ever portrayed himself as being interested in the same sex. He kept everything a secret. There were hardly any friends, lovers, associates, nothing. The only time Yugi could recall ever seeing Heba around anyone was during his after school practices.

Something Yami said though had the teen thinking. Yugi tilted in his head in thought, and a worrying depression formed on his brow. "You don't think Heba loved you?"

"You're quick to believe I was the receiver instead of the deliverer."

"Because I know my brother; he doesn't wear his emotions on his sleeves. Not like me anyway. It takes forever for Heba to visibly offer a sign that he cares about anyone, but you'll know through his actions. _I love you's, I care for you, and you're special._" Yugi shook his head at the alien phases. "Heba wasn't the type to say any of that."

The layer of softness expanded, Yugi noticed. Yami probably couldn't tell, the more they talked about his past lover, the more open and honest his eyes became.

"I know it had to be from your side, Yami. I know you couldn't have been this cold and cruel your whole life." Yugi pressed further, upper torso leaning forward. "There had to have been more to you. Something—something amazingly profound that my brother couldn't resist getting to know you better. Otherwise, Heba would've never taken an interest. If you owe me something, tell me that."

Yami's gaze widened a margin before quickly narrowing. He leaned away, holding the young man's eyes, and firming his gaze when Yugi determinately remained as he was, round eyes focused and deeply concentrated with hills of concern. Which inwardly baffled Yami to a certain extent. He couldn't understand this boy. Here Yami was, the very man who'd shot him, and still, he is worried for Yami's emotional state.

"What made you this way, Yami?" Yugi tried again, staring into Yami's face as though he thought Yami had forgotten the question.

Yami sighed and looked out the window. Worlds, years, ages of misery flooded Yami's features so suddenly Yugi was taken aback by the desire to, to—his hand reached out to grasp one of the ones folded neatly under Yami's chin before he realized it. Yugi couldn't have predicted doing something so dangerous as to touch the Red Eyes leader without warning, but he just felt the urge to give Yami the comfort.

Yami didn't deny him the chance to give it either. He languidly let his hand be taken and massaged between Yugi's smaller and equally calloused fingers.

"If it's too hard to talk about—"

"Not hard, just frustrating," Yami quietly interrupted, gaze still preferring the transparent glass to Yugi's candid eyes. "The details of my past are shrouded in malevolent despair. I've done horrible things back then, but I would gladly repeat them to feel that same relief of freedom."

Yugi blinked at the hand between his, so much larger and wore through years of gripping a gun, battered to the bone through survival and urgency to fight and plowing blows into flesh. There were scars, faded and discoloring, on Yami's skin. His fingertips rubbed over Yami's hand, the small gashes, the paper-thin ones and those that made Yugi wonder how they'd got there.

On the inside, though his exterior was portraying an entirely different person, Yugi was cursing him for being so weak. He was bashing his own fragile propensity for actually giving a damn about his near-killer's feelings. He was stupid, very much so. This little sparse of stupidity would just be added to his already growing list of idiotic gestures done in a moment of weakness.

"Heba was the first to bring me a second sense of freedom years ago. I hadn't known it was him until we met again." Yami softly confessed.

Yugi gave a fleeting smile. "When did you two meet?"

Yami's lips pulled on the side. "June 4, 1995."

Yugi straightened up and examined Yami closely. "My birthday?"

"Yes, the same hospital you were born in is the same one I was admitted in.

"What were you there for?"

Yami closed his eyes. "For experiencing my taste first freedom after my parents were killed. . ."

* * *

"_How is he?" _

"_Physically, he's stable. The boy escaped with first degree burns to his upper torso and right hand, but he'll heal. The skin grafts will prevent scarring. Mentally, however, the scanners read erratic brain waves, unpredictable and imbalanced. Traumatization is presumed based on the levels of brain activity escalating from time to time, but we can't fully diagnosis his condition without further testing._

"_When can we expect the appointments to be made for testing, Doctor?"_

"_Just as soon as he heals from these wounds first; he hasn't spoken a word since he was checked in. No doubt he's constantly thinking about how close he came to being lost in the fire." _

"_I can imagine," the slender, brunette nurse whispered outside door two-forty-five. "The poor thing doesn't have relatives we can contact?"_

"_Unfortunately, no. All possible points of contact are limited to a few close friends. We called several possible relatives but none of them even knew he existed. His mother and father weren't close with either of their families. The boy's grandfather died a year prior to illness."_

"_Oh, dear." The nurse's fingers clasped in front of her indigo scrubs as she cast a mourning gaze at the closed door. "What will we do with him?"_

_The doctor sighed, tucking away the child's record files. "He'll stay here for now. I'll call Child Protection in the morning. Perhaps they'll have better luck placing the child in more appropriate caring environment than those damned parents of his tried to provide."_

"_He was abused?"_

"_Immensely so. Have a look." The doctor passed his assistant nurse the charts, displaying an extensive history of Yami Sennen's health examination from surrounding health clinics and this very hospital. _

_The nurse was stunned. At only six, nearing his seventh birthday, this child has experienced terror that not even she could even begin to fathom. Since Yami was two, clinics have marked and recorded findings of cigarette burns, cutting scars on his ankles, and arms, bruises and whelps slashed across his back and worse of all, raw moisture on his penis and anal tearing. _

_She flipped through the clips of pictures and found it harder and harder to look at the large hand prints indented on this child's skin. On closer inspection, she saw the empty blankness of a child who didn't know a world beyond the behavior bestowed upon him. This was a life Yami was accustomed to. He knew nothing outside of this viciousness. Those handsome red eyes should have been alight with glee and cheer, not submerged in such hollow anguish. The nurse thought about her own two boys at home and was blessed to be married with a wonderful husband who wouldn't dream of doing horrible things to their children. _

_Her lips thinned, disgusted. "Why hasn't anything been done to prevent this?"_

"_Poor judicial system. The neighborhood he lives in is notorious for criminal activity. The judges don't see a future for a child raised in such a harsh environment. Why would they waste their time trying to save a future convict?"_

_The nurse hardly qualified _that _as a legit excuse to forfeit a child's life. Her grip on the clipboard matched welded metal. Casting one last look at the door, she nodded her leave and left with her supervisor. _

_The child inside, Yami Sennen, heard every word spoken about him. He understood everything they said and could comprehend it in a way no six-year-old should've been able to. That world he escaped from, was everything that nurse woman said. His world was filtered with darkness and turmoil; a torturous nightmare he had to endure every single day._

_Yami saw things the kids at school never heard of. He heard things that terrified his teachers, because how could a six-year-old know the gauge size of a syringe. How did he know where exactly to prick it in the arm and how to find a roaming vein? Sometimes when he came to school, he chose to stand in the back of the class because no one could explain to him why it was hard to sit down after his special time with his mother's friends. _

_Whenever the teachers asked why he was bleeding or had bruises, he'd recite the same speeches his mother imbedded in his brain. _

"_I fell on the ground."_

"_I got into a fight."_

"_I was being bad."_

"_I hit my head on the dresser." _

"_I dropped some glass on the floor."_

_They never questioned him after the excuses were given. Of course, why would they even care? The teachers had their pick of students they wanted to pass to the next level and Yami wasn't one of them. He was smaller than the other students and with frailer bones. His stench from days without a bath, repelled children and often made him the subject of attack. Parents would come to school and sneer at his outer appearance as if he were a contagious illness that could make their children the same way. _

_The skin of a six-year-old should've been soft and smooth to the touch, untouched by needles and the edge of blades. Most six-year-olds were just experiencing their first scrapes and bruises from roughhousing with friends and siblings. Yami would receive his from his overly cheerful mother or his passively quiet father. _

_That was especially why Yami disliked being handed things because it always came with a price. New toys meant long bouts with his mother's friends. New clothes meant helping his father with a new drug addiction. In addition to his apprehension of being given things, Yami hated the nighttime. Bad things often happened when the sun went down. The doorknob would creak open and a new face would come in with his mother. Sometimes they were big, ugly burley men. Other times they were slender, elegant women with scores of clumpy make-up and screechy voices. Regardless of their race, their shape or size, they always wanted the same thing when they came into his bedroom. _

_Yami stopped trying to fight it when he turned four. He stopped listening to his father's empty promises to go to the park and play football. If Yami stuck him in the arm one last time or if Yami could help him tie an elastic __tourniquet around his upper arm, they'd go to the park or play outside. _

"_Daddy, why you keep hurting yourself?" _

"'_Cause it makes me feel good. Don't worry about grown folk's business, son. Go play outside."_

"_But you promised you'd go with me, Daddy. I'm tired of goin' outside by myself. No one wants to play with me."_

_Artimus Sennen's head lolled to the side like it was barely attached to his neck. His red eyes were so glossy they looked ready to pour out of his sockets. Yami had helped his father in the tub of cold water with his socks, shirt, and boxers still on, but that'd been two hours ago. _

_Artimus's lips were firm and wound up hard against his teeth as he carefully gazed at his only son. "I told'cha I'd play with you later."_

_Yami's bottom lip poked out and the tiny hands around the plastic football clenched. "Please, Daddy, just for this many minutes." Yami held up five fingers. "I won't ask anymore, I promise."_

_Artimus's head flipped back, parting away his sable brown hair to show his ash-pale face. "Later, son. I'll take you to the park after a nap. Go to your room before I get the belt on ya." _

_The drugs were taking effect, dousing Artimus's voice in a rough acidic drawl. He sunk further lower in the tub and let out a weary, content sigh. Yami helplessly looked on as if the sight of his pitiful state would be the trigger to get his father out of the bathroom. _

_Yami sat by the bathroom door for hours waiting for when his father's _later _would come. _

_By the time his father did wake up, Yami's mother had walked through the door. She wasn't alone either. A surge of fear rippled through Yami when she called his name. Jumping to his feet, the little boy hurriedly ran down the hall to his bedroom. There was no doorknob to lock the door. She'd done away with it long ago when Yami learned it could barricade her from getting in. Yami could only rely on the rare chance his mother would use her own body to satisfy her customers instead of him. _

_However, those chances were extremely rare._

_Yami heard the footsteps approaching, heavy and spaced out. It was a man this time. The baritone chuckles raced like spider legs through Yami's body. He whimpered, red eyes darting for a hiding place, maybe a new one where his mother wouldn't find him. He hid in the closet enough times for her to search there first. Behind the door was an option but too close. She'd catch him there. His mother had already found him hiding in his toy crest a lot too. He _would_ hid under his bed, but his mother had taken the wooden support after being unable to reach her son during the times she chased him underneath it. Now it was just a flat mattress._

"_Yami, sweetie?"_

_Yami's bones locked up at the arousing, candy sweet tone of his mother. Her pedicured nails slid along the peeling wallpaper, scratching the bare wood. Her companion's chuckles matched her provocative giggles. Yami shuddered violently and dove for the blankets on his mattress. He pulled the thickest one on and went quiet. He was so scared. __All he could think of was how much he wished his father would save him, even once from this overbearing torture and how much he absolutely loathed his mother._

_The door opened. _

_Yami inhaled, quaking and shivering and closed his eyes. _

"_Oh sweetie, don't be like that," Angelina purred, sashaying over to the dingy grey cushion tucked in the corner. _

"_Where's the meat?" Her customer grunted from the doorway, adjusting the zipper on his pants. "I paid you for some ass."_

"_Keep your shirt on, he's here." Angelina flipped an intertwined lock of blond and red hair over her shoulder, mouth winding around a stick of gum. Bending at the waist, the older woman reached out to caress the highest lump on the bed and smiled. Her prize possession hid beneath these sheets, as ripe as a bowl of washed cherries. Every Thursday, Friday and Saturday, her baby boy fetched the highest bids at the local pub, just by word of mouth alone. The customers would come up requesting a pleasant evening with her body or a small sample of Yami's. After she showed a picture, they'd pay a hefty prize just to have him alone for a few minutes. She had more than enough money to satisfy her rapacious spending habits._

_If only her little baby wasn't so stubborn. "Yami, sweetheart, mommy's here. Don't you wanna gimme a kiss?" _

_The lump whined, sinking flat to the mattress. Angelina pouted and grasped the covers. She lifted it up to reveal Yami's grief stricken face, covered in tear streaks and dirt. _

"_Aww, there's my baby boy."_

_Yami hiccupped. "Mama, can y-you stay? Please?"_

"_Oh no, sweetheart, that simply won't do." Angel reached inside her bronze Gucci purse for a napkin and wiped his face clean. "There is that gorgeous face. So beautiful and perfect." She rose to her feet, dusting at the lint caught from the bed. "Now, be a good boy and do what Mr. Sam says. Mommy has to go to the store for a while."_

_Yami ducked inside the sheets. "Mama, can I go with you?"_

"_No baby, you stay here. Keep Mr. Sam happy for a few minutes and I'll take you to get some ice cream." Angel tossed a wink over her shoulder. She glared at the man named Sam. "Damage the merchandise and you'll have me to answer with."_

"_Yeah, yeah, yeah, get outta here." The man shoved her out, shutting the door. _

_Yami gulped, new tears leaking from his eyes. He curled into himself, wishing the sun would rise. No one ever came when the sun was up. No one. Why wouldn't it rise now? Hadn't it been nighttime long enough?_

_Thuds, large and pounding, started coming forward, getting louder. Powerful sobs forced themselves through Yami's chest as he called out to his only savior. "Daddy?" he called. _

"_I can be whoever you want me to be, kid."_

_The sheets were snatched off. Yami closed his eyes. The metallic slap of a buckle hitting the floor was always the loudest sound before the cold would envelop his skin. Then his screams would come just as loud, maybe louder. _

_They got what they deserved. His worthless, bitch of a mother and that poor excuse for a father, they both deserved the agony of hell's fires burning them to death. _

"_Why are you crying?"_

_Yami grimaced and immediately hid his eyes behind his blond bangs. Crying was a weakness. He was done shedding them. He turned furious eyes at the person who asked and glared. _

"_I wasn't crying!" he nearly shouted. _

_There was a boy there with short brown hair, very dark brown hair and maroon eyes, wearing a grey Nike Elite shirt, a black, white and grey plaid hoodie, and blue jeans with black and grey Retro Jordan shoes. A fitted baseball cap with Dodgers etched across the top hung so low over his eyes, they were barely visible. He had a bottle of water in his hand and a yellow toy bear. _

"_Pfft, I hope not," the boy snorted. "Boys aren't supposed to cry. That crap's for girls."_

_Yami roughly rubbed his wrist across his nose and continued glaring. "Why are you in my room?"_

_The boy looked Yami up and down. "You can lose the attitude, kid. I thought this was my mom's room." _

"_Don't call me kid!" Yami shouted loudly. "I hate being called kid!" _

_The boy rolled his eyes. "Whatever." He closed the door behind himself and walked in, ignoring the astonished look on Yami's face. "Ugh, why me?"_

"_Didn't I say to get out?"_

"_Shut up," the boy shot back. "I gotta stay 'cause you're crying. My mom says when you see somebody cryin' you're supposed to be nice. I'm trying to be nice."_

"_Your mama doesn't know what she's talkin' about," Yami spat. "I don't need anyone being nice to me. I hate people."_

"_Well, I'm not people. I'm Heba."_

"_I don't care who you are! Get out!"_

"_Give me why were you crying, then?"_

_Yami choked back the retort that would counter that question and tilted his head down to the space between his legs. "I wasn't cryin'," he said quietly this time. "I had something in my eye."_

"_If that ain't the weakest lie I've ever heard," Heba said, amused. He put his teddy bear and water on the room dress and crossed to the wooden chair positioned next to Yami's bed. He plopped himself right there, rocking his legs back and forth, humming a tune from the television._

_Yami thought the kid had lost his mind. "Why are you still in here?"_

"'_Cause you're still crying. I'm about to call the nurse and say you're deaf too." Heba answered right away. "Just hurry up and stop crying so I can go see my baby brother."_

"_I'm not making you stay in here with me. See, look!" Yami fiercely swiped at his eyes. "See? No tears, now go away!"_

"_No."_

"_Why won't you leave me alone?"_

"'_Cause you're still—"_

"_I'm not crying anymore, stupid!"_

_Heba's entire demeanor changed. His lithe little body sat up straight and as slow as working off a jar top, he turned to face Yami. _

"_Oh yeah?"_

_Yami gasped. He was held captive under those mesmerizing eyes, as vivid as a reflective jewelry, which shunned a deep hypnotic spell on Yami. He hated it because he was trapped but he couldn't understand why. He understood with those other men, but with this kid, it didn't make sense._

_A hand appeared out of thin air, coming for his face. Yami's short cry pierced his raspy throat. He flinched back, eyes squinted shut against the slap. But one never came. Yami swallowed back a harsh sob when the hand cupped under his chin. Red eyes melted on cue, his body recoiled, prepared for the moment of penetration. This too, never came. _

_The hand on his face wasn't strong enough to hold him there. It was smaller, weaker and much softer. Cotton rubbed under Yami's eyes, dabbing the corners and tapped his nostrils a bit. When he opened his eyes, Heba was flanked on his side, the bill of his hat occasionally brushing Yami's forehead. Heba maneuvered his balled up sleeve up and down around Yami's face until he was sure he got rid of every trance of sadness on his face. _

"_There, now you're not crying." Heba whispered playfully. "You look prettier without tears."_

_Yami touched his cheek. The texture was dry and lukewarm, not hot at all from the flush of tears. Red blended in with maroon for a while, one with a smile and one without a smile. _

"_You got some pretty eyes, ya know."_

"_So what," Yami retorted, sniffling. "They're just eyes. I hate 'em."_

"_Why?"_

"_Cause."_

"_Cause why?"_

"_Just cause ok?" Yami slinked away from the comforting hand on his face, and scrubbed away the lingering tingle. "Please, go away. I don't wanna talk to anyone."_

_Heba reluctantly eased back, mouth touted in a pout. "Fine," he grunted, slipping off the bed. "I'll leave. But you do have pretty eyes." He gathered his belongings, straightened his hand and went for the door._

"_I hate my eyes."_

"_You gonna cry again?"_

_Yami blinked up. Heba was still at the doorway, eyebrow cocked up. _

"_If you do, I'm gonna stay."_

_Yami frowned and turned away. "I'm not gonna cry."_

"_Good, better not." The door softly clicked. Yami stared at it for a few minutes, almost expecting the kid to return. _

_He never did, but worrying that he would, Yami refused to cry anymore that entire day. _

* * *

Yugi couldn't and wouldn't relax until he was absolutely sure Yami didn't breathe another word of his horrid past. His back was rigid and his bones were as stiff as if dipped in liquid nitrogen, and his eyes were weary for the image of a small boy's endless suffering. Yami's behavior, his animosity towards life, towards others, it explained things. Yugi could've guessed that this was the reason and he wasn't sure if it were wise to press for more information.

Yami sat so still, Yugi thought he could feel the older man's heartbeat through his palm.

"So, that day when Heba woke me up, it was the first time you met him?"

"Yes."

Yugi leaned away, a bright smile gradually pulling on his lips. "I never knew," he chuckled. "He was such a blunt kid, even back then."

Yami chortled lightly. "The encounter was brief, but it forced me to get through a few nights. I kept thinking that he would come back and get on my nerves, but he never showed."

"You've been through so much, Yami." Yugi's grip fastened tighter around Yami's palm. "I couldn't imagine surviving through so much pain." Yugi clenched his jaw and said nothing for a moment, but eased the squeezing hold on Yami's hand and patted it absentmindedly when he felt the squeeze returned.

Yami was staring at Yugi now, but when he tried to look away Yami tried to catch his eyes. The corner of his Yami's mouth twisted, nastily. "Don't pity me, Yugi. It's the last thing I'd ever ask anyone to feel for me."

"It's so hard not to," Yugi whispered and sniffled. "No child is responsible for warranting that kind of treatment from their parents. You had no one. You were so young—"

"I lived." Yami's hard voice penetrated Yugi's melancholy instantly. "Every single person who caused me pain—every last one of them," here Yami squeezed Yugi's fingers, "was punished, tenfold. I wasn't kind. I listened to every scream I wrung from their throats. I listened to every heartfelt plead to be let go and ignored them all. I disregarded the threats upon my life because it meant nothing to me. I was their assassin. I wanted them to know I was their killer."

Yugi slowly, very slowly leaned away. "You killed them all, even if they changed?"

"Years can alter anyone's appearance, but can never change the spirit within. I didn't care if they were married, got on the straight road of righteousness or attempted to do right with the world because I was still that little boy trapped with an eternity of nightmares and regret and sorrow."

Yugi shook his head. He felt almost drained, fatigued, sucked clean of the negative feelings he wanted to feel towards Yami's way of seeking revenge. He felt the way he did after a game lost; unsure as to whether he should congratulate the rival team for a job well done or to forget his sportsmanship and don't shake their hands.

"Does your opinion of me lessen now that you know the beast behind this face?"

Yugi snorted a humorless laugh and massaged his forehead with two fingers. "You know, honestly Yami, if knowing you murder, cheat and steal on a daily basis, doesn't already scare my testicles in my stomach, I can't say I'm not used to already looking at the beast." Nonetheless, his grip on Yami's hand wasn't any looser. The pressure was firm and strong. "You shot me, you practically kidnapped me, and I was nearly killed several times dealing with you and Atem. In all sanity rights, I should stay away from you, hell I want to. You have no idea how much I loathe the sight of you sometimes."

"Then why listen to my sad story?" Yami coldly taunted, drawing small circles on top of the hand caressing his. "Why continue to stay in my company?"

"Because," Yugi cupped his free hand over Yami's and together, they shared a solid fortress of fingers, sweat and warmth, "despite all that I know about you, that story told me one thing."

"And what's that?"

Yugi smiled. "You're still human."

And Yami found he didn't particularly care for this smile. It caused things to happen. He knew because he was graced with it before; from Heba and from Atem. That same smile made his heart miss a beat and contagiously urged him to smile back.

"You hurt, you bleed, you cry." Yugi continued, gazing down at the tangled mass of his and Yami's hands. "I think, regardless of the pain you've caused, you only reacted the way any sensible person would, who's been through what you've experienced." His voice trailed off into a whisper as soft as a breeze before the rain.

"My past doesn't define me as the man I am today," Yami said. "I've grown from that."

"You have, but as you said, anyone's appearance can change on the outside, but their spirits remain the same." There was that smile again, bright and radiant.

Yami sighed, chest inhaling deeply and exhaling it all in a weary sigh. He closed his eyes and opened them, finally, withdrawing his palms from Yugi's grasp. Yugi's fingers grappled at the emptiness left behind. The wet residue of cracked, sweaty palms was secretly missed.

"You should go," _before I do or say anything else I regret, _was the part Yami quietly kept confined.

Yugi clenched his hands. "I think I should too." He went quiet, then. "Thank you for sharing that with me."

Yami licked his lips. He held up his hand as if ready to announce something else. His hand lowered, his eyes half-lidded and he just . . . just calmly tilted his head and said, "My pleasure."

Yugi slid from the booth, stood by the table and bowed. When he rose, there was a faint blush on his cheeks. "Maybe, I, I mean we can, um."

"Another time?" Yami saved him from asking.

"If you're not busy . . ."

Yami chuckled. "I'll let you know."

Yugi turned and trekked toward the counter to make his orders for home. He kept glancing over his shoulder just to catch a glimpse at Yami's profile. By the time food was paid for, Yami was gone.

Yugi didn't mind though. Maybe he was stupid for considering this—this strange new connection with this man and maybe he was crazy for desiring another chance at rekindling that small moment they shared before. . . he just hoped he wouldn't regret it.

Was it really worth the risk?

* * *

**TBC: ~Sighs~ I'm back home everyone ^_^. I really hope you enjoyed the chapter. Romance is gradually blooming. **


	15. Tip of the Ice Berg

**Author's Rant**: Thank you everyone for your support!

* * *

**Tip of the Ice Berg**

* * *

These new crops of candidates were handling the initiation a little too easily for Akefia's tastes. He and Valon were in charge of this month's newest line of runners; mostly made of up groups of adolescents and young adults wanting in on the Red Eye family. The numbers were increasing weekly from the usual four, to ten or twelve a pop. There were actually up to seventeen teenagers and young adults recruited this week alone. By the end of the month, the next set of runners would total forty-seven.

Near the Domino City's pier was where the first stage of testing took place. Valon was out there coaching the new meat through the necessary beating they'd have to live through first. The older and more experienced members of the Red Eyes, mostly volunteers, were dishing out severe beatings as a test of strength, endurance and ability to deal with a tough situation. The one-sided fights would last five minutes and that was plenty of time to earn your first cracked rip, broken nose or bloody whatever.

The only confusing factor here was, Akefia wasn't getting that sense of thrill that came with witnessing these kids slink away like wet puppies. The usual screams weren't punctuating the air as much, their grunts were too short and the way they huddled into themselves with their arms folded and their legs flared out, defined no kind of fear.

His index finger idly tapped the handle on his gun while he debated over whether he should listen to his instincts or ignore his paranoia. Something just wasn't playing off right tonight.

Maybe he was feeling off because of the last street brawl. He hadn't felt as secure around his gang family as he used too because most of these guys he didn't know. There were too many faces, so little knowledge about their past. It was bugging him. He narrowed his lavender eyes and fingered over the trigger when his phone started humming in his back pocket.

Akefia answered without taking his eyes away from the show. "Yeah?"

"_Are you going to be late coming home again? It's well after eleven." _

Akefia grinned at his little brother's worried tone. "I know. After we finish up here, I'll come home. Did you cook?"

"_I did, but it's nothing too fancy. Just smothered lamb, steamed potatoes and buttered cabbage."_

"Shit," Akefia fiercely swore with a lack of heat. "You could've waited 'til I got home to fix that."

"_I was hungry now,"_ Ryou playfully drawled. _"My stomach refused to wait any longer and there was no telling when you'd get here."_ Hesitation, then, _"By the way, Mum and Dad called."_

"Oh yeah?" Akefia, feeling a familiar conversation brew, retrieved a napkin full of grape-flavored Swisher Sweets cigarillos and a Ziploc full of dark sticky herbs. He turned around to the hood of his Suburban to start filling the wrapping with cut up Purp.

"_Akefia?"_

"Yeah, I'm here," the older brother roughly grunted. "What'd they want?"

"_Just to talk, to you, really. They miss us being home. They're,"_ Ryou cleared his throat, "_worried about us. Dad says he's coming here by the end of the year to finalize the sale on the house. He wants me to attend college in London. . . he wants you to come home too." _

Akefia snorted.

"_He does,"_ Ryou insisted. "_Mum's asked about you too, Ake'. I don't understand why you shut them out so much."_

"'Cause I don't have much to say, for real. Been busy."

"_Running the streets hardly qualifies as a liable excuse."_

This made Akefia pause in his rolling up. "I'm running the streets to keep food on the table for us."

"_Which you don't have to do! Dad sends us the money we need to pay for our accommodations. He's worried about us."_

"You mean they're worried about you. Mum and Daddy, already made it clear they ain't trying to keep a son who got one of their favorites killed."

"_That's not true," _Ryou sounded very hurt. _"They love you too." _

"I'm gone."

"_Akef—"_

Akefia hung up. He wasn't trying to hear that noise. He couldn't understand why Ryou refused to leave the issue alone. Akefia knew the truth and no amount of wishing, hoping and denial was going to resolve anything. The sense of bitterness shun off his parent's like sunlight through a thunderstorm. His parents had secretly blamed him for years over Bakura's death. They'd created plenty of scenarios where Akefia could've done a better job of keeping up with his baby brother or how he could've saved Bakura if he'd just done _this or that._ Don't they know that shit still ate him up to this day? Why do they think he tried so hard to make sure Ryou was well-guarded twenty-four hours of the day, seven days a week?

_Missed him, his ass._ That was bullshit. They missed their high-school-perfect son, not their delinquent mistake. Akefia wouldn't mind his baby brother going back home to London. He could go, but Akefia wasn't stepping foot there. He had a home and it was right here in Domino protecting the family that accepted him, flaws and all.

* * *

It was within the dawning hours of a new morning, the sky offering up an pearly glow as the moon slowly began to recede and the sun began to peak over the horizon, when Atem awoke with an instinctive start. His arms firmed with an automatic urgency to assure himself that they were still full of a slighter body.

There was a dull sense of relief ringing deep in his mind; something that he hoped would dissolve quickly with time. His innards twisted in an anxious bundle of knots as he grimly touched over his daughter's cotton clothed back, fingers grabbling and releasing over every part of her body as if to familiarize himself with a detached doll. How long would it take before he was able to let her go?

He hadn't let her go, not once, since they arrived home. Atem shut off his cell, his only direct line to his gang family and blood family, so that his entire focus solely belonged to the slumbering child in his arms. Her heartbeat was slower, calm and tranquil, synced harmoniously with her father's. It was a warming contrast of great contentment when his faster pulses were answered in between her own.

He'd changed out of his dirty attire and showered, washing away the anxiety of yesterday. Kisara never left his arms. He worked every motion with her there, doing upon her what he did to himself; showering, eating, resting, and silence. She fell asleep as soon as Atem reclined on the sofa, cradling her like delicate snow in the spring.

Minutes whisked passed him, missed and unnoticed. His hum was a feeble and so distant that he wouldn't have known he was humming at all if he didn't know himself. That he hummed at all was one of those things not many people would associate with the Blue Eyes leader, but it came with those rare, unseemly times he could truly say he was happy.

He had his daughter home, safely locked in his arms. Nowhere on earth was more secure then where she was now.

Atem had more than the efforts of his family to thank for that.

_Yugi . . ._

_Yami . . ._

Regardless of their rejection, the street bonds were sound. Any flavor done upon another was an automatic contract written in stone until that flavor was fulfilled with something of equal or greater value. In this case, Kisara's life was the bonded factor. Money would be a foolish jest to give either Yami or Yugi. Yami had his own and Yugi's pride was bound to put Atem back on unleveled grounds with the teen.

Nothing materialistic would do. Not now anyway. He had to do something to compensate their intentions, however forced they may have been. Sentimental displays of any kind were out of the question.

He needed something, a way of showing his appreciation and maintaining his legion to his blue blood ways. Atem, thinking in the midst of his hums, stretched his arm and shifted to waken the numb vibrations in his legs.

Atem closed his eyes and settled more comfortably against the leather cushions. For a while longer, he felt his exhaustion drift in and out of his body. His nose tickled with the frills of pearly white hair. The warmth was bewilderingly soothing . . .

"Daddy?"

Kisara was finally awake.

He didn't make a move as the child snuggled up under his chin, fingers tangled in his oversized long tee. When she relaxed, Atem reached out to grab Kisara's sides, massaging his presence through the Disney-princess-printed pajama set. Kisara's eyelashes fluttered on his neck and she curled inward, greedily seeping at his body heat. Then she let out a light sigh, "Daddy, you sleep?"

"Not quite." Atem swallowed through the block of sand choking him. Hearing her voice was enchanting Kisara had slept for most of the time they'd been home. It was good to hear her sweet words. "Did you sleep well?"

"Yep, like a bear." She snuggled some more. Then said, "You still love me, Daddy?" Her words were slurred due to lingering tiredness, but there was no mistaking the low tone of worry.

"Daddy always will."

"But I was bad."

Atem ducked his head, resting his cheek on her brow. "Daddy does bad things too. You still love me, don't you?"

"Yes."

Atem let the mild sternness fade out of him and ease his finger under Kisara's chin. She went with the encouraging finger to face her father's sharp feathers and narrow eyes.

"Daddy should be angry with you, you should be punished for scaring me like that." He tilted her chin higher. Tears threatened to gather in the corner of her eyes. Well, Atem couldn't help that now could he? "I nearly lost my mind looking for you. Do you have any idea what losing you would do to me?"

Atem stared at her. Kisara looked back, bottom lip quivering in a way that she only did when she thought she lost of her father's love forever. But her face, more like her grandmother's than his own, remained strong and brave.

"I couldn't live on, baby girl. My heart hurt so much to see you gone," Atem said, with a gentle vulnerability he never imagined his own voice was capable of. He leafed his fingers under her neck, along her cheeks and across her eyes, concentrating on her sui generis features, round, elegant and perfect beyond her years. He kissed everywhere his fingers trailed away until they came to find her microscopic hand fisting in his shirt. He lifted it to his lips and kissed it too. No harm had come to her. None. He couldn't thank God enough for keeping her perfect.

"I'm sorry. . . I promise I won't be bad anymore." Kisara sniffled. "I didn't mean to make a boo boo."

Atem sighed. "My heart is healed, my lovely child. But don't you know how much it beats for you?"

Kisara's eyes shone like the sun. He smiled, so very soft and full of an adoration that stole a sob from her throat. Kisara buried her face away to hide her tears and quietly wept, gratified with worlds of relief that her daddy still loved her.

Of course he would.

"_You were the family I needed. You were everything—damn it, I only lived for you two."_

Atem chuckled bitterly. How long would it be until that particular whisper vanished from his mind? _Seems to be the day for momentary weakness, doesn't it? _Raking his fingers over hair finer then silk, Atem cast longing glances at his ceiling, spiked like dribbling silicone. Was he still the beating pulse of that man, he wondered. Could he still cause to reached a new platform, make it race with want and desire.

Perhaps, two heartbeats?

Atem would certainly find out.

* * *

The school bell just rang, signaling the early morning class switch. The halls were unusually packed more then capacity that came with a few absent students to balance the size. It seemed every student ever recorded in Domino City High was here today. Candid voices bounced off the walls, booming all over the campus as accurate as if every individual voice was speaking through a megaphone.

This sudden increase in the student body could hardly count as everyone actually missing school. Yugi snorted. He even saw classmates he'd assuredly thought had dropped out of school a year prior.

They were all here to catch up on the latest update about what happened a couple of days ago. Not that the gang activities haven't been advertised on the news already. They just preferred to dabble in the more intriguing thrill that rumors and gossip created. The student's who openly paraded their involvement in the gunfire gladly replayed every gruesome detail of what went down, even stretching the truth until it strained like a rubber band on the brink of snapping.

He heard his name mentioned quite a bit during his journey to Locker 37B. Yugi wasn't going to give them the satisfaction of indulging their curiosity. Let them talk about whatever they wanted. He just wanted to forget it ever happened and move on. After locking in his combination, Yugi shrugged off his uniform blazer and shoved it inside along with the textbooks of his last class. It was hotter than usual today. Yugi undid two buttons, loosened the collar around his neck and considered untucking his tailored shirt.

"So, is it true?"

Yugi bristled and relaxed in a single motion. He wasn't sure what he was feeling at the moment, though curdled shame was part of it. He felt stupid for thinking he could prolong this confrontation and felt even dumber for not keeping a better watch on his surroundings.

"Yeah, partially," he said to the side of his locker door. "Not everything you've heard in the gossiped through the grapevine is true though."

"That's not my style. I'd rather hear straight from the horse's mouth." The intruder shrugged. "But what I don't get is why you were even there when I vaguely remember you saying you would have anything to do with them. _Ever_"

Yugi dipped his head down. After a moment, he nodded and shut his locker door. Tristan was on the other side of it, wearing his blazer gapped open and his tailored shirt untucked and unbuttoned entirely to show his white t-shirt underneath. His profile was all he was offering, but the side facing Yugi was chiseled so strongly with disappointment, Yugi could've mistaken his friend for a garden statue.

Yugi glanced up at him through his bangs. "I'm sorry."

Tristan blew hard. "I got that part already. You are sorry, but that's not enough. I want you to admit how much a liar you are too." He kicked of the wall lockers and started down the hall.

Yugi followed suit, head ducked down, hands gripping the straps of his book bag. "I had no choice," he whispered for Tristan's ears only.

"You have plenty of choices," Tristan said sharply. "The police are a good place to start. There's the Army too. I heard they don't mind defending citizens when they're not overseas. Hell, the fire department's got nothing better to do 'cept eat subs. And then there's me!"

The brunet abruptly spun around. He was met with defiant purple eyes instead of the submissiveness he would expect from someone who knew they were in the wrong. Yugi's gaze echoed anything but regret. Tristen became livid.

"Don't you care? Why didn't you call me?" He managed to break his voice over the herd of students in the hall. "Why'd I have to hear from a bunch of freshman that my best friend nearly got himself killed?"

"Because telling you hadn't been my main priority at the time," Yugi said, unable to keep the exasperation out of his voice. "I would've told you eventually."

"Before or after you fucked these guys?"

Yugi's face refashioned itself in a scowl. "I'm not talking to you when you're like this." He stepped around the brunet's flabbergasted self and continued down the halls. Pressure like boiled metal nailed into his shoulders suddenly.

His back was slammed against the locker wall, the clamoring sound of rattled metal acting like a whistle blown in a room of players. Every student within hearing range stopped and two more stopped because they stopped. The entire hall was at a standstill, eyes wide and peeled for the next mode of action to take place. The shock of seeing the school's best baseball players and friends at each other's throats was enough to give anyone pause.

Yugi gritted his teeth as the ridged metal started biting into his back. His eyes compressed until a slither of dark purple combated with the fire in sable brown eyes. Their faces were inches apart, hot breath and frustration flaring from their nostrils. Tristan pulled back his hand to point his finger in Yugi's face, mouth balled tight. He opened and closed his mouth every time it was on the verge of spouting angry words.

For the third rough time in their friendship, Yugi had to bear witness to the undeniably deep anguish in Tristan's brown eyes. He was the cause of it, that emerging surface of hurt and dismay. Yugi looked away first. Tristan's grip died off to a light grasp then fell away completely. He shook his head and turned to leave, the hall of spectators parting way. Yugi felt his insides crumble like an avalanche, just as cold and unsteady.

The moment of surprise was short lived when a squeal down the way renewed the crowd's interests.

Yugi blinked as the swish of students started parading down the halls to gather near a window panel, opening out to the schoolyard. School went by like a blur of colorations. His lessons were muffled, dulled to the roar of aggravation. Tristan made himself scarce throughout the classes, sitting as far from Yugi as possible. Yugi needed, wanted someone to talk to about this strain. Ryou was MIA, one of the few students who decided to take an extra leave from school, so that left little to no one for Yugi to convey his issues with. By the end of the school, Yugi had already decided he'd skip practice. His arm wasn't up for the swings, thanks to Tristan's loving jolt against the wall.

And Yugi couldn't blame him. Tristan had every right to discard their friendship like it was worthless trash. Hadn't Yugi been treating their relationship like that since he showed little respect for the usual bro-code of sharing your problems and secrets with one another?

"Shit." Yugi massaged the base of his eyes as he wandered through the double doors. His mind was flooded with ways to explain to Tristan that his intentions with the leaders were reasonable, when the unmistakable description of a certain someone reached his ears.

"Girl, check him out. Mercy, he could lite fire to wet grass, he's so fine!"

"Is that a 2014 Chrysler 300."

"So?"

"So? That shit's fly! I don't seeing you riding something that fierce."

"Who is he?"

"Hell if I know, but I need to ask 'em who did the paintjob. I ain't ever seen that kind of blue on a car."

"Love the hair. Wonder if he got the idea from Muto."

The huddle of students chuckled at the mild joke. Yugi wasn't laughing. He wasn't slightly amused when he saw Atem standing by one of his toys and looking every bit as lethal as a jungle panther behind those Gucci shades. Never one to look less than a million dollar model, he was dressed in turquoise Gucci polo shirt tucked in a pair of low riding jeans, and high top white Converse shoes.

Yugi didn't let that lucid grin stop his marching. He had no idea what Atem was up to, and frankly, he could give a few damns. He was still steaming from his and Tristan's confrontation earlier this morning and fussing at Atem just might be the remedy to cure Yugi's attitude.

Atem slid away from his car after sighting his intended target. He slowly walked around the front of the Chrysler, coming to stop on the other side and leaned back against the passenger door with his arms folded over his chest. The sides of his eyes crinkled behind his shades as he took in one of his daughter's saviors.

"You've got to be kidding me," Atem heard the teen grumble when he was twenty feet away. A brief instant, he stilled where he was, his eyes tearing away to look at the surrounding sea of witnesses. He looked torn between greeting or yelling or attempting to make it known that he was acquainted with Atem at all. Whatever confliction raced across his face was resolved within seconds because Yugi continued his stomping and stopped two feet back. Just in arm's reach.

"What are you doing here?"

Funny. Atem frowned slightly at the weak question, taking a moment to study the teen before him. His eyes narrowed in displeasure as he noted the discoloration beneath Yugi's purple eyes. That greeting didn't hold the flare of heat Atem had been expecting. Yugi didn't just looked tired. He sounded tired too.

Yugi made an impatient sound, his eyes stretched and eyebrows high. "Hello? Are you going to answer or standing here posing for all my classmates? Unless you don't mind coming off as a pedophile. By all means, stand here looking like someone's sugar daddy."

"Sugar daddy?" _Cute. That was cute_. Atem glanced around him at the starry-eyed fan club piling in on top of one another. Their smiles were lecherously illegal. He could practically smell the stink of sex rolling off their dicks and pussies. "I can assure you; I had only positive intentions of coming here to see you. I wasn't expecting such a," Atem made a show of looking around himself at the disturbing winks and giggles, "spirited welcome, though if I am coming off as pimp, that won't vote well for you since we're talking like you owe me money."

Atem held out his hand, palm cupped opening motioning a _gimme_ gesture that had all types of misleading interpretations.

Yugi's lips twisted to the side as he drummed his fingers over his book bag straps. He cracked a small smile. "How's Kisara?"

"Doing good. She's at home resting. Baby girl's strong. She'll pull through this."

"You don't think a child would be traumatized after going what she went through?"

"You gotta remember _whose _child she is." Atem tapped his wrist, grinning. "It runs in her veins, instincts and adjustment to any situation. She gets that from me as well as her grandparents."

"She's still a little girl. I can't help, but worry."

"That's why she likes you so much. I appreciate your concern." Atem dipped his shades down low enough to deliver a wink and pushed them back over his eyes. He was gratified with the red rouse on Yugi's ears. "I have something for you."

Yugi blinked. "Something for—Oh, no! No, you don't have to. I'm no good at taking gifts."

"I insist." Atem was already slipping his hand in his back pocket. "It's yours. I have one for Yami as well."

"Is this to repay that favor?"

"No, and shame on me if I were so boring." Atem withdrew yellow folded sheets of construction paper and passed them to Yugi. "This is my daughter's way of saying thank you."

Yugi took it. Kisara was all the motivation he needed to hear. There were three sheets, each colored and draw with a different kind of material: Markers, crayons and finger paints. But they all had the same ideal universe. There were flowers, vibrantly drawn flowers with oversized petals, wiggly stems and crooked benches. Yugi squinted his eyes when he noticed there were three characters. The one with the squished body was obviously him holding hands with a round headed Kisara. Atem, who's face resembled a moon pie, was sitting on a half-finished bench and . . . next to him was another person.

Yugi tilted his head. The face was colored with a peach crayon and the hair had a bunch of yellow squiggles. Was this? Ah. Yugi had to smile at this. "She drew Yami too."

"She did."

"She remembered him?"

Atem tipped his head to the side. "Yes and she has an interesting way of labeling strangers."

"What did she call him?"

"The man with sad eyes."

"Oh." Out of the mouths of babes. Hm. Yugi wondered if Yami would show. "This is an invite to the park, right? When do you want me to show?"

Atem lifted an eyebrow. "Are you saying you'll come?

Yugi's brows rose to his hairline before dipping into a frown. "Of course. I wanna see how she's doing. I still owe her a date after skipping out on the last one I promised."

"Excellent. We'd like that." Atem looked at Yugi, and his eyes were direct in a way that made Yugi remember their talk about possessiveness from their dinner date. His smile was genuine and less demanding. Perhaps, that's why Yugi wasn't as cautious of it as Atem would've expected him to be. "I'm only asking. Don't feel obligated to come if you don't feel up to it. I can understand how much you've been through."

"No, no, I don't mind." Yugi stuffed the artwork in his pocket. "I'd love to. Really, I want to see her again."

"We'll be waiting Friday afternoon after school. Same park, same time as the first." Atem reached out before Yugi could react, with one hand and trailed his fingers along Yugi's face, pausing so that he could touch the bony portion of his jawline. Yugi winched, but the motion didn't retract his face from the touch.

"Really Yugi, I owe you."

"It was nothing."

The caressing fingertips eased to the blunt point of Yugi's chin, curled under and lifted. Atem removed his sunglasses. He wanted there to be no barriers preventing Yugi from seeing the seriousness evident in the best way to relay his emotions, which were through the intense shade of his eyes.

"Risking your life for the sake of a Blue Eye's child, is hardly nothing. We take pride in our children. They are, after all, the solid foundation that will keep our line secure. I declare such actions as something worth recognizing. You've already caught my eye once, this is the second time."

Yugi gave him a floundering look, confusion etched deeply into his features. "Wouldn't any sane man do the same thing?"

"A greedy man maybe, because he'd know what kind of rewards he was entitled too. You're not such a man, Yugi. I know you helped her because you truly care." Atem slipped his shades back on, saucy grin in place. He clipped Yugi's chin and backtracked to the driver's side. "That's more than enough to earn my trust."

Atem was in his car and gone before Yugi could say something passed the pleasant warm gathering in the pit of his stomach.

"You're welcome."

* * *

A crash of some kind resonated in the distance that sent a panicking jolt to his stomach. He'd been waiting over an hour since he got the call. This was straight bullshit in his opinion, being neck-deep in the Blue Eye's turf dressed like this. He craned his neck over the backseat for the third time, surveying the saturated block of goons displaying their colors like Confederate soldiers. There were twenty, maybe about thirty foot soldiers patrolling their own beat, scouring for fiends and anyone showing off the tiniest stitch of red on their bodies.

All was quiet save for the occasion humming vehicles and scattered conversations floating from several fiends stationed on street corners. He wet his lips and blew an agitated sigh. Not that he was scared or anything, but Atem had eyes and ears in every tight corner of North Domino and the slightest imperfection on his land was reported. That kind of drama wasn't in his plans for tonight.

He checked his rear view mirror and caught the front grill of a peculiar platinum silver 2003 Acura cruising from behind. The person shimmied low in his seat in case this wasn't the appointment that called for him to be out here. It was a different car every time.

The car paused and parked parallel his. Several moments pasted before the headlights dimmed off and the engine was cut. He hoped this was his appointment he was supposed to meet. Otherwise, this street was about to be set ablaze. He wasn't scared of Atem's men, but he'd be damned if he was taken out like a bitch.

The driver's side of the Acura popped open and a femininely slender framed man appeared, wearing a pin striped yellow Hugo Boss button down and pressed chocolate slacks. He'd been suspicious about meeting this guy simply because of how well rounded his name was around town. What would a high roller want with a street bug when he could buy a car lot with the snap of his finger? The person wasn't feeling the whole sit up since they made the first few deals.

The pay was good, but not at the expense of his life. Their under-the-radar meetings have been going on for weeks with minimum failure per operation. The guy didn't quite get the concept. He just did what he was hired for. However, as the list of victims to assassin grew higher, the more dangerous it became. He kept a grinding grip on his 9mm, fingers drumming over the handle.

Zigfried knocked on the passenger six times, two short, three sharp and one soft, as was their usual gesture for identification. The lavender haired man dipped inside the vehicle, long legs having to bend inward to accommodate the lack of space in the Kia.

"Did you take care of it?"

The guy lifted an inquisitive eyebrow. "I always hold up on my end." An ACER laptop was retrieved from the backseat and flipped open, illuminating the dark interior in pristine white. Beefy fingers drilled over the keyboard for five relentless minutes until the screen showed forty bank account pop-ups. "Six percent per account, per bank, per name, just like you asked." Though the six percent only part still puzzled him. They had had a prime chance of draining the gangs dry, but Zigfried only wanted to filter the banks of six percent.

"Excellent and you've already positioned your men?" Zigfried said, eyes brilliant with nefarious delight.

The person folded his laptop and returned it to the back seat. "Not quite, you see there's a bit of snag we need to have fixed before going any further." The man coolly draped his arm over the passenger's headrest, gaze low and lethal.

"Such as?" Zigfried urged.

"The police are flooding the streets left and right, taking everybody in colors off the street. I can't afford to have any of my men ripped off. That's loss money on my end."

Zigfriend blinked. "They should be able to continue infiltrating without detection. If they can't handle a minor confrontation with authorities, you've clearly hired the wrong recruits for this line of work."

"My men can get the job done _outside_ of incarceration. I need Zane to lay off the heat just for a few hours to position the rest of my crew."

"I can deal with Zane. He'll keep his squads out for another two days and pull back. Whether he's willing to admit it or not, he needs the Mediums patrolling the streets. We're able to wedge deeper fears in Yami and Atem, where the police cannot."

"That doesn't erase my people of their radar."

"Sacrifices are meant to be made before an experiment is fully achieved," said Zigfried. "Understand that you're contracted into this deal and it was clearly stated in the fine print, _regardless of circumstantial losses_." Zigfried warily eyed his companion with a critical once-over, taking in the forest green pullover, jet-black cargo-sweatpants and Army issued combat boots. "Am I under the impression that you're not up for the job anymore?"

The man cracked a crooked smirk. "If the money's right, you don't have to worry."

"Fine answer." Zigfried reached inside his pocket for a neatly wrapped bundle of bills. He loosened the tape and leafed through the thick stack like the sheets from a novel. Half the stack was peeled off and handed over. "This is to cover your next assignment."

This was about a quarter more of what the man was used to being paid. "Must be serious."

"It is," Zigfried calmly assured. "I have a very special task for you, specifically one that your men cannot participate in."

"OK?"

"You're aware that Atem has a young daughter, correct?"

The man thought a moment, brow furrowed and eyes partially widened. "I heard the rumors, but I never knew it was true. Why?"

Zigfried reached in his pocket a second time, pulling out a hand-sized laminated sheet of paper. "This is her." He passed the picture over for examination.

The man took it, eyes casually dancing over the five-year-old's impossibly fair porcelain skin and large, sweet Egyptian blue eyes. They were so large and so round, one could easily drown by glance alone. Her salmon pink lips were fixed in a smile as she stared off at a herd of children stampeding down the school steps, wearing the same uniform as her. Her long white hair fell like a meteor shower down her back.

The man lightly whistled under his breath. "Cute kid." He handed the picture back. "So, what she gotta do with me?"

"Simple, that child is the key to cleansing this city of the filth it's accumulated over the years. In order for a new chain of command to be established, I'll need you to take her out."

The man bristled, the first sign of discomfort he's shown since meeting Zigfried. There hadn't been a doubt in his mind that Zigfried was on some type of vendetta streak since they met because of all the crafty shit he had him doing. Though this time, this was the craziest mission he'd ever had to do.

"You want me," the man pointed at himself, "to kill a child?"

"Will that be a problem?"

"Nah, I can do it. I'm just sayin', she's _Atem's_ kid. That kind of shit don't come cheap."

"You can expect to be handsomely reminbursed for whatever extra labor this may cause you," Zigfried was quick to guarantee without missing a beat.

"Alright," the man answered after a moment collecting silence. "When you want it done?"

Zigfried's grin split his face in half. "Soon, very, in fact, but it's got to be done by a certain date. When you take care of this mission, this," he gestured to the money already given, "as well as the rest of money owed to you, will be transferred to your account that same evening."

The man's grin matched Zigfried's sickening smirk. "How you wanna do it?"

"Good man, that's what I want to hear. Follow my instructions carefully. We need to stage this just right . . ."

* * *

**TBC: Nothing but pure Mobiumshipping from here on out. If any of you have the time, could you vote on the next Mobiumshipping story you'd be interested in reading after Fragile and Celestial Congo are complete? Thank you.**

**Also if you're ever looking for a mobiumship story to indulge in besides my own, check out Sulfur Dusk's story, The Boy with the Black Sweater. It's a very interesting read. ^_^**


	16. Serenity

**Author's Rant:** Enjoy the next chapter everyone!

* * *

**Serenity**

* * *

Yami closed his eyes against the haunting image of his rival, the memory of their previous encounter forever drawing to the surface despite his fruitless attempts to keep it buried in the furthest regions of his mind. He could still feel the precise moment that it occurred, the actual feel of flesh-to-flesh contact and the sudden flare it ignited in his chest. His blood had roared to his ears, clouding his mind from the surrounding chaos happening.

It made his head throb, his hands clenching into balls of nail-gnawing tightness as a fragile bitterness coiled in his stomach. No matter how hard he tried to will the wintry chill of past anguish to envelop his innards to near suffocation, it couldn't submit the burning. Yami didn't like that. That old teenage heart of his was still ticking as if his sixteen-year-old days were the current present.

He cast aside the searing Purp in his hand and reached in his pocket for a stronger dose of something herbal to clear his mind. Drinking wouldn't work. He'd downed an entire bottle of Jonnie Walker and still felt like he could outrun a German Shepard, bare foot over a bed of needles. Red Dawn wasn't working. The Icy couldn't even mask the level of tingling anxiety. Nothing was working to clear his head of that bastard's face.

His body, sure, it was feeling the drugging effects of the blunts he'd smoked. His mind wasn't though. Judging by the trembles in his fingertips, the side effects were kicking in after three straight hours of polluting his lungs with the sticky merchandise.

~0~0~0~0~

Yami had made it home after going over the account withdrawal information with Seto and after doing a thorough survey of his terrain. He hadn't been able to put his finger on it, but the city was . . . too quiet, clean even. That goes a long way because even after a major street brawl between the Red Eyes and Blue Eyes, there would still be strings of minor scuffles.

But there wasn't anything. Laying low from the officers would only last a couple of days at best. It was early dawn on a Thursday. Unless he'd made a call around for everyone to stay undercover, and he hadn't, there should be money being made. Yami hadn't pondered over it too much and simply gone home. The only problem with that is, as soon as he had, he'd had a visitor waiting for him.

Nothing blue should even graze the Red Eyes Main House and here was a 2014 Chrysler 300, so blue it was hard to look at it. The owner was perched on the hood, head bowed and on guard if the rigid line of his broad shoulders were any indication. Nausea broiled in Yami's stomach upon the sight of Atem parked parallel of his house, the approaching auburn, lilac and crimson flares of the sun outlining his presence like torches from a distance.

If circumstances weren't what they were, Yami could admit to finding the shine of his rival, quite flattering on his caramel skin. But the situation was that they were sworn enemies, a mutual line of understanding lain between them that was as wide as the Medium Territory dividing them.

Nearly six years of bloody fights, gunfire and physical combat often left Yami's mind being steered on pure instinct, his body acting before his mind could register what it was doing. This particular moment was a good example. He'd parked his car several meters from the offending vehicle desecrating his property and was reaching in his waistband to pull out a Glock 37, aimed low by his thigh.

"I'm gonna assume you've hit that midlife crisis where you do stupid things without worrying about the consequences," was the first thing Yami said evenly, and without having to raise his voice any higher than normal audio. "Otherwise, why would a fool walk into the lion's den," Yami glared at the bright blue Chrysler, "with a bloody steak tied to your chest."

Atem heaved the kind of heavy sigh that said he knew perfectly well what he was doing and didn't need the lecture to elaborate on it. He pushed off the car and held up his hands. "I'm unarmed." He gave a jaunty wave of both his hands and leaned back on his car. "I came to talk, not to fight."

Yami almost wanted to roll his eyes. "Write a letter, send it through Pegasus, you know how things work. Don't believe that a mutual understanding changes anything. We're back at square one."

"I wouldn't expect our lives to change because you helped me save my daughter or we shared an accidental, if not expectedly cliché, kiss." Atem shrugged his shoulders. "No, I definitely shouldn't expect a thing of our lives to change in the least."

The sarcasm rolled like oil down Yami's spine. He gritted his teeth in frustration. If there was anything at all that Yami thought that he and Atem did share, was it a bilateral understanding. If they didn't have trust, then there was a level of respect that the other kept for their rival in terms of keeping their distance. Atem willingly crossed that line without a face of regret, or fear or worry of being maimed to death by a bunch of angry Red Eyes.

"What do you want?" Yami preferred fighting on leveled grounds with this man so he tucked away his gun and matched his stance, arms folded and legs spread shoulder width apart.

"Like I said," Atem slipped off the side of his car like a wet viper and started approaching, "not to fight. Just to talk." Atem seemed momentarily appeased, tilting his head when Yami maintained the space between them. "You look nice." He smirked. "Looks like something I would've bought you."

Yami bristled under that look. Back then, yeah this would've been something Atem would've got him as a gift. When things weren't as—complicated—Atem would buy Yami all kinds of outfits from name brand vendors like Hugo Boss, Ralph Lauren, Gucci, Calvin Klein, Diesel, Sean Paul, Coach, Nike, anything he though would advertise Yami's good looks best. Not anything low quality would touch his body. It was habit Yami still carried with him to this day, hence, his current attire; a black and green Pierick Pro Hugo Boss slim fit polo shirt, baggy fitted black Hugo jeans and black super fly high top Jordans.

"What do you want?" Yami repeated evenly, his patience obviously thin if the narrowing slit bright red around his pupils defined it and the steady tap of his finger in the crook of his elbow.

"You don't have to be on guard."

"Says the man who nearly ran me over a few weeks ago."

"You pistol whipped my face."

"Says the man who shot at me."

"You shot at me first."

Yami scowled. Atem kept his expression at ease. He wasn't going to touch that bait Yami kept dangling in front of him, no matter how tempting. He wanted an excuse to make Atem leave. Atem wasn't going to give it to him.

"Look, just let me say my piece, and I'm gone. Alright?" Atem started reaching behind his back. "Relax, I told you I'm not armed," he said when he caught Yami's muscles tensing. "I wanted to give you something." He came back with a folded sheet of red construction paper.

Yami left it hanging right where it was, eyeing Atem's face stoically. "What is it?"

"See for yourself. I promised I wouldn't look at it." Atem said, extending his hand.

Yami watched him in silence. He didn't immediately dismiss it, Atem noticed, so that gave way to believing he was a little bit intrigued. The Red Eye leader's bangs hung over his eyes, as his head bowed to study the sheet of paper. His nails dug into his skin. Crescent crevices were the result left behind, marring his arms, yet he gave no sign of caring.

Atem kept his hand out and his eyes on Yami's face. There was no air of caution, danger, or a swift movement that'd give way to an attempted trap, but Atem still felt like this moment was a way of bending burnt bridges.

"If this is a trap. . ." Yami challenged softly.

"It isn't," Atem countered just as soft. "Word is bond."

That was pushing it hard if it really was some elaborate trap to make Yami drop his guard. Now, he knew it couldn't be one. Word is bond is a phrase more solid than contract written in blood. You didn't just throw something that deep out and reproach on it.

And Yami still had a hard time making his feet cut the short distance to Atem's hand.

He forced himself to do it, at last when Atem's arm began to tremble. He would've probably endured that slight physical pain just to get Yami to take it from him.

Yami flipped the crested sheet back and forth, checking for any kind of signature or marking. There was a floppy drawn blue heart, blended purple because of the paper's shade, and speckles of different sized stars around it. He cocked an eyebrow at Atem as if to say '_What the hell are you playing at'_ and all he got back was an innocent shrug.

Yami sucked his teeth and undid the paper. It opened to an elementary drawing of what he assumed was the Domino City Garden Park because of the colorful flowers, brown benches and stick people. However, three stick people stuck out instantly. One with the gold crayon stick was no doubt Atem. The next wearing that familiar orange pull over hoodie with the watermelon smiley face and fat ears was Yugi—Yami softly smiled at that—and there was drawn stick man with spiky hair, a deep sadness etched on his oval face.

"Kisara drew this for me." Yami fingered over the rough crayon textures with a delicacy resolved for a lover.

Atem chuckled fondly. "Yes, she calls you the man with sad eyes."

Yami pointedly stare at the frowning scowl.

"I'm taking her to the park, Friday," Atem continued carefully, so as not to break the spell of understanding. "She's given Yugi a picture too, with all of us. It's her way of saying thank you."

"Hers or yours?" Yami automatically questioned.

"Hers, I haven't figured out a way of repay my debt to you or Yugi yet, but I will."

"I thought I made it clear—"

Atem stopped him with his palm out. "I know. You don't want it, that isn't how the streets work. I've taught you this. I cannot go about my ways unless my debts are paid, you realize. That's my daughter's life after all. She owes you that, which falls unto me as her father."

Yami grimly folded the paper. "If this is her doing, my acceptance should be all she needs."

"Accept her gratitude by joining us. That is, me, Yugi and Kisara, the four us together at the park," Atem chuckled, "and for once, not under violence and misunderstandings. It'll be with the singular intentions of answering a little girl's request to meet her heroes."

"Don't use your daughter as an excuse," Yami grumbled, annoyed with himself for contemplating the invite. "I still don't trust you."

"You may not trust me, fully—"

Yami looked at him sharply. "I don't trust you at all—"

"_Fully_," Atem continued without missing a beat, his eyes and his lips narrow, but his smile wide and serpentine on his handsome face. "I lost count of the times you've left your back turned to me, Yami. That isn't a mistake you easily make unless you drop your guard." He took a step forward. "You've done it enough times to not consider me a threat anymore. So . . . I wonder what that means."

_Had he really? When had_. . . Yami's eyes widened, lips pursed hard against his teeth. All those occasions, those instances he hadn't given into his instincts to tense up and go into defense whenever Atem was around. The time they searched the park for Kisara, when he walked around to his car after they looked for the guns and—and when they were using the car as a shield against the gunfire. Not once had Yami flinched. Not once had he thought to keep his eyes on Atem at all times. Because, why? What did it mean? Nothing can change like that without a trigger. There hadn't been enough time to—for anything to happen between them for this to happen.

Yami curled his lip and flicked his eyes away from Atem's intense gaze and quiet patience.

"See?" Atem whispered, wine colored eyes shining at Yami with a radiance sharper than direct sunlight. "I cannot say you've come to regard me as anything less than an enemy, but not a particularly dangerous one if you allow me this close."

Yami closed his eyes, his fingers, he wished, were trembling to grab his gun, but in reality it was because of the overwhelming lack of space between him and Atem. The Blue Eyes leader had gotten closer than expected, his face a few inches above Yami's brow. He wasn't touching him, but every warm breath he released felt as damningly close to physical contact as any other touch.

"I can't make you come, though I would feel honored if you did. Just understand if you do, I'll take it for meaning you're willing to sever a portion of this six-year hatred. Maybe move on from this, start anew?"

Yami scoffed a short snort and kept his eyes stubbornly strayed to the side. "I doubt that."

"I did say maybe." Atem lingered in Yami's personal space a moment longer, whiffing in his woody cologne before retreating. "Yugi will be there," he added before turning on his heel and going to his car. "If anything, that should be enough reason to show. He'd want you to." With that said Atem sunk inside his car and drove off.

~0~0~0~0~

That'd been earlier on. Yami had gone inside to change out of his attire and into some black cotton cargo pants and a red wife beater to sit and consider his options. He was still sitting on the front step of his house hours later, blunt in hand and a blurry decision to make on whether he really wanted to take that route. The drawing sat folded neatly by his thigh, not forgotten but merely sitting there, existing, and a chronic remainder that he needed to ponder over his next move.

It was infesting his mind slowly, the way a black mamba's venom gradually traveled in its victim's veins. That's what Yami felt like. As if, he were slowly being poisoned with change.

* * *

Why did every ticking second feel like an eternal wait in prison? Counting down the moment you were finished with school for the week, worked a nerve like nobody's business. Yugi especially wanted to get out of there to escape the burning glare searing through his head. Tristan was back there, still fuming. Yugi knew it. Yugi tried talking to him all day, but the brunet eluded him with a swiftness, blending in with the pack of students after the bell rang. He tried cornering Tristan during lunch period, but was detoured—and Yugi strong believes that was intentional—by Duke, Rebecca and Ryou to sit at another table near the vending machines.

Yugi's last attempt had been in Chemistry when the teacher stepped out to speak to someone. Yugi snuck to the back and tried to force Tristan into talking with him. The cold shoulder he got couldn't have been a clearer message and the glare he earned made the classroom several degrees chillier. They'd had arguments before, but never to this extreme. Yugi didn't want to waste a friendship with the first person who saw him as something other than an easy target in pre-school.

Yugi sighed. It was nerve-wracking as hell. He'd give Tristan sometime over the weekend to cool off. After that, maybe he'll be easier to reason with.

The bell finally rang for the final part of the day. Yugi quickly stuffed in his books and hurried out the door half listening to the teacher's announcement on next week's assigned homework. He idled at his locker shortly to grab his blue blazer, a new change of tennis shoes and to unload all of his textbooks inside. Passing through the largely packed corridor, Yugi wrinkled his nose at the cluster of freshman wandering the hall like lost kittens and seniors stalling at their friends' lockers for last minute discussions on this weekend's activities.

No doubt, everyone was going to be visiting the Boom. Duke invited Yugi and the rest of them to hang for the night but he passed on the offer. He still wasn't comfortable last month's incident and he knew Tristan would show, knowing how much he disliked Joey. It was bound to be flooded with Red Eyes after being forced into confinement with all the police lurking around.

He cast a few waves here and there to his classmates and spoke to a few of his teammates about next week's trip to the finals before stepping through the metal double doors. The air was stark with the sun's flattening heat, barreling down through the gaps of the clouds. The weatherman called for an overcast, which Yugi was glad to see was approaching from over the horizon. He picked up the pace and hurried on to the Gardens Park.

Since his school let out fifteen minutes before the elementary schools, Yugi had time to enjoy the park's general splendor. He missed the tranquil oasis that bloomed from just being caught in the center of so many engaging smells. It was a tourist's dream, perhaps one of the few attractions Domino could be proud of. There were stargazer lilies owning their own unique beauty from the rest, blue irises so brilliantly blue they were easy to spot a mile away, and dangling honey suckles tantalizing the air with a scent so sweet, you could lick the air and taste its nectar. Yugi could bask in this artificial meadow forever.

Yugi leisurely strolled down the sidewalk, hands grasping his backpack straps, gathering in the park as if it were his first time when he abruptly saw and felt a flash of white and navy run smack into his legs. He wobbled unsteadily, impulse telling him to keep himself as well as the small bundle from tumbling over.

"Looks like someone's happy to see me." Yugi cupped his hands over Kisara's shoulders and eased her back to look at her face.

He was stunned. A soft grimace flashed over his face as he took in her tear-streaked face, trails of the transparent droplets leaving ashy paths over her cheeks.

"Oh, no, Kisara, don't cry." Yugi tugged at cuff of his sleeve and used it to clean her face. "What's wrong, love? Did someone bother you?" he wouldn't put it pass some of the children to gang up on anyone who looked remotely different from the rest. He'd been down that road because of his short stature and large eyes.

"No, no," she hiccupped, small fists rubbing fruitlessly at her eyes. "I-I'm just really happy. Daddy said you'd come, but I thought you'd be mad at me." The broken up words shattered like glass. She broke down, burying her face urgently into his slacks, fearful shudders shaking her body.

Yugi stared cautiously at the little girl before him, at a total loss as to what to do. "I'm not angry," he tried to say, though whether she heard or not was a mystery. Kisara clutched at his pants like a child desperate for their parent to stay home . . . or more like she was afraid he'd never see her again.

Yugi reached down to loosen her grasp on his pants and kneeled to her height, eye to eye. "Listen, love," her tiny hands drowned in his oversized palms. They were brought to his mouth and kissed, each finger getting individual attention. "I'm not mad at you. I could never be angry unless I'm scared for your safety. Why on earth would you think I'd be upset with you?"

Kisara's bottom lip stuck out. "Because I ran away from home and got caught by the bad people."

A heavy thump settled in the bottom of Yugi's stomach. He controlled the recoiling effect it brought upon hearing how she was kidnapped and simply presented a stern frown. "In that case, I should be mad at you, shouldn't I?"

Kisara nodded, and left her chin perched on her chest.

"You scare us, you know. Not just your father but me and a," Yugi thought a moment, "a _friend_ of ours who was equally worried for you. Every action has a consequence so the next time you think about doing something; imagine what will happen after doing it. You understand?"

New tears welled up in the corner of her eyes. "You sound mad to me."

"That's only because I care about what happens to you." He let go of her hands and braced them on her sides, using one hand to pinch her chin up. He looked into eyes made of endless blue and smiled. "Would you be upset with me if I ran away and got hurt?"

"Yes," she peeped, "because that would be irresponsible. My grandpa says if you do irresponsible things, you get punished. If you cannot handle your irresponsible actions, you deserve to be reprim. . um . . . reprim. . ."

"Reprimanded," Yugi helped and gave her a gentle wiggle. He'd make a small note in the back of his mind how a five-year-old know what reprimand and irresponsibility meant later. "But really, baby girl, I'm not mad. I'm disappointed, but I'm just happy to see you're ok and happy."

"I am happy now," she said and took a tentative step forward. "I get to play with you." Her skinny arms were up and around Yugi's shoulders before he saw them coming.

Yugi stood, with the child in tow and clasped her to his chest, swaying from side to side, and rubbed his cheek against hers. Yugi placed a chaste kiss on her forehead and stroked the combed white hairs head in long downward sweeps. This little girl was such a treasure in his eyes. He meant every word he said, no matter how frighteningly true they sounded and scary that he'd said them.

_CLICK! CLICK!_

The faint sound startled Yugi after hearing it a fifth time. He glanced over Kisara's shoulder and spied Atem with a Popsicle stick loosely hanging out of the corner of his mouth and his phone held up.

"Yeah, oh yeah," he nodded after pressing his finger over the hidden folders section and locked the pictures in his phone. "That's definitely a Kodak moment."

"Daddy!" Kisara scolded angrily. "I wasn't pretty!"

"Yes you were, you lil' diva. You looked fine, you both did." Atem presented them with a smirk, his white smile gleaming in the dimmed afternoon sunlight. It was while Kisara was busy getting down from Yugi's arms that a reserved _look _was settled on Yugi, heavy as an anvil dipped in boiling water.

At least, they _thought_ the look went unnoticed.

"Daddy, you got that scary face!" Kisara smacked her father's thigh, tapping her foot and wagging her finger like a grown woman. "Didn't I tell you not to do that to my friend?"

Atem looked offended. "I didn't have a scary this time.

"Yes you did!"

"What'd I look like? Show me," he challenged.

"You looked like this," Kisara slacked her entire face and plastered her hands on her cheeks, mushing and molding her face into her father's expression. When she was finish, she flipped her hair back and gazed at Yugi, eyes hooded and lips tooted in a smile from the left. "See? Like this. I don't like that 'cause you keep looking at Yugi like you wanna gobble him up!"

Atem struggled to hold in the laughter at the disgruntled look on Yugi's face. "Say that again, baby girl? I wanna do what?"

"Gobble him up?"

Atem exploded in laughter at the rush of red drowning Yugi's face. He wiped tears of mirth from his eyes, shaking his head. "Out of the mouths of babes. Whew, that's a good one. Hey—hey, don't get mad at me, she said it!" He ducked just in time to avoid what would have been a painful slap of Yugi's hands, still laughing.

"Only because you're encouraging her," Yugi snapped, with a half-hearted edge. "Have some shame."

"I have none, sorry." Atem tucked his phone in his pocket. "Might have to keep this saved for blackmail. You two wanna swing?" He bump his chin towards the swing set in the distance and started walking over. Yugi grabbed Kisara's hand and followed suit.

He noticed something just then. "I wonder where the parents are. The schools should've let out by now."

"They're letting the children out in the back of the school."

Yugi paused, causing Atem to halt as well. Kisara, oblivious to the conversation, continued on to the swings and snatched the closest one.

"Why?" asked Yugi.

Atem jerked his chin to the elementary school. "I told the principal to warn the parents that I'd be in the area. These are direct orders of Pegasus. We, that is, Yami and I, aren't allowed within a certain radius of the school grounds without permission. I've gotten his permission before. This time, I don't feel like asking. Simple as that." He started to walk off.

Yugi grabbed his arm and gently yanked back. "It's not simple as that, Atem. You're inconveniencing the other parents and their kids. Everyone deserves to enjoy the park."

Atem's eyes darted at the hand on his arm, Yugi's face, the fingers digging into his bicep and back into Yugi's frowning eyes. Every strip of muscle in his arm grew taut around those offending digits. He must be getting_ really_ soft to let this boy grab him like this. "So, I should neglect my daughter's request and let her roam the park alone, while her only friend stands there signing autographs and she waits her turn for his attention." He pulled his arm free and folded it across his chest. "Tell me if I'm in the left field or straying close to home base."

Yugi frowned. "That's not funny."

"Does it look like I'm laughing?" said Atem, wine eyes dilating so dangerously there wasn't a shred of color left. "Answer me, I'm expecting one today."

Yugi looked him up and down as if Atem was two inches from the ground. "Whatever," he snorted, about to brush pass him.

This time Atem grabbed his arm and squeezed. Yugi winced under the pressure, turning defiant eyes of rage on his captor. The teen's shoulders were tense and his body stiff as a nail. Atem's glare softened several degrees when a sudden revelation hit him. "You like fightin' with me, don't you?"

Yugi blinked owlishly. "Say what?"

"You do," Atem insisted with a knowing smirk. "That's why you don't listen. You like getting me riled up."

Yugi's face twisted and he turned away, stubbornly glaring at a distant building. "Clearly, someone's full of himself, if he thinks I'd honestly put in that much effort to get a reaction." He chuckled humorously. "From past experiences, I hadn't had to try too hard anyway." He turned his head back, eyes half-lidded and daring. Yugi praised himself for getting Atem to lose his composure all together. That glare was back, full force. "Did I hurt your feelings?"

Atem chortled quietly. "You're some kind of funny, Young Buck." He let Yugi go, shoving him in Kisara's direction. "But we'll continue expressing how much of you want me for another time. My daughter awaits."

"I don't want you—ouch!"

Yugi reeled up to the tips of his toes horrified. He glanced over his shoulder in time to see Atem slipping by casually with his hands tucked away in his pockets. He looked like an innocent bystander and not someone who just smacked a brick-red print on Yugi's ass cheeks.

"Bastard," Yugi growled under his breath, rubbing tenderly at his throbbing behind. He couldn't get this person. One minute he's up and the next he's down. His mood swings are as bad as Yami's. It's no wonder they're always at each other's throats.

Speaking of Yami. Yugi gazed around the park curiously. He wandered if the Red Eye leader would show. He wanted him to come. Yugi had missed their scheduled date earlier this morning because of school. That was partly the reason why he wanted Yami to come, to apologize. But if the man didn't show up—

"He'll come."

Yugi started, looking up ahead to see Atem staring off in a direction. "How'd you know I was looking for him?"

Atem sighed. "Because I have been too," he admitted.

"But you're sure he'll come?"

"I'm hoping he will. This," Atem shook his head slowly, "this grudge between us is old. I've grown tired of it honestly."

"Oh," Yugi came to up Atem's side, peering up at his angled face. "So, why not just end it all?"

Atem smirked with no humor. "It's not that easy, Young Buck. You're talking about squishing a feud that goes far beyond Yami and me. The Red Eyes and Blue Eyes have been out for each other's blood for over fifty years. It's not something that'll disappear overnight."

"That long?"

"That long."

"I didn't know." Yugi grimly thinned his lips at the prospect of killing having stretched as far back as the 1960s. He shook his head. "Killing's so stupid and senseless."

"I couldn't agree more, but," Atem shrugged again, "it's either kill or be killed out here. Our anger, hatred and discrimination towards one another has cast such a shadow of darkness over the years. If a Red Blood so much as sees a stitch of blue wander into their lands, that offender is good as dead without question. The same with my crew. If you whisper the words Brah or Red to us, it's an insult and a bullet to the head."

"Why is it like that? That's not fair!"

"Life isn't fair." Atem narrowed his eyes pointedly at Yugi. "Otherwise, your brother would be alive wouldn't he?"

That dampened his spirits quickly. Yugi closed his eyes against the dismal image of his brother's face in that casket, the memory flashing like an old school movie; no matter how hard he tried to erase it. He could still recall how cold and unnatural Heba's hand felt beneath his when he touched it. Yugi couldn't come to terms with that lifeless corpse being his brother. The skin felt synthetic the way freshly manufactured manikin would after being molded into a pose. The loud clang of metal to mood was the last sound Yugi heard that day before Heba was wheeled out by friend and family to the Rich Haven Cemetery.

Atem was right, life wasn't fair and to this day Yugi would always ask why his brother. It was selfish, but he'd even thought about it being someone else's brother instead of his. Let someone else suffer the terror of a loss sibling, like the other piece of your soul was ripped out and held over a fire to burn. It made his chest hurt, his hands balling into fists at his side. Then Yugi would wept at his cruel thoughts and for the loss of a brother, he'd never feel, smell, hear or touch again. Just thinking about it made his eyes burn, tears welling to leak despite his efforts to hold them at bay.

Yugi jolted when a long arm hooked behind his shoulders and tugged him into a warm purchase. He glanced up at the watery picture of Atem looking away. "Life ain't fair, that don't mean you gotta accept it all the time."

Yugi felt as if his throat were restricting, his vision blurring against the odd pang of hurt he felt. "It still hurts, every day it hurts."

"It's going to, probably for the rest of your life. That's just another one of those survival tests I told you about before. You live, experience, learn and move on."

"I wish it were that easy," Yugi sniffled, wiping under his nose with his sleeve. He squirmed to be let go, but Atem firmed his hold. Yugi didn't bother trying anymore and let himself be held. "Have you ever lost someone?" Yugi asked after collecting himself.

Several minutes went by with Atem looking in that same distance, to where Yugi would've thought Atem hadn't heard him until he released a long, sad sigh. "Too many times, I have. My uncle, my mother, a few cousins . . . your brother . . . and Yami."

"Did you love Heba too?"

"Love?" Atem bitterly chuckled. "Not quite. I tolerated Heba for Yami's sake, though I did grow to care for your brother."

"Wait." Yugi rubbed under his nose again, a light scowl marring his feathers. "You and Heba and Yami . . . you three weren't. . ." how could he phrase such a question?

"In some kind of fucked up taboo relationship?" Atem finished in a sourly quiet tone. "Yeah we were. The three of us were together in a sexual relationship, not entirely romantic, but stimulatingly satisfying."

Yugi scrunched his face up in disgust. He did not want to hear any details about his brother fucking anybody, especially Atem and Yami. That made his chest constrict for some reason. "Did you ever consider making peace with the Red Eyes?" Yugi asked, changing the subject.

"Yeah, once." Atem fell smoothing on the new topic like sliding on water. "In 2001 we established a truce. That was me and Yami's doing. We called it the Watts Truce, because we established it in the Watt Gymnasium. We came up with a new gang name to combine the colors: The Purple Fiends."

"Really?"

Atem nodded. "We had our own hand signs, territories and networks. We ran Domino better than an oiled mustang." He scoffed. "A lot of good it did. The shit only lasted three years before we went back to warring."

"Why? If you had a good thing going, what could ruin it?"

"Betrayal, lies, cheating, the usual cliché flaws that comes with a peaceful fusion of powers." The bronze hand stroked absently up and down the teen's arm as the owner continued speaking. "There will always be that few who can't accept the way things are and want more power then what's already bestowed them."

"You could always try again."

"Not likely. Once is enough. It's better if the powers stay divided as they are. Less means of control over the city and there isn't a huge struggle over who wants to be top."

Atem's eyes suddenly crinkled harshly in the corners. The area he'd been staring at for so long drew his attention again when he heard door slam. Yugi followed his eye of vision, wandering kept the Blue Eyes leader distracted. The answer came in a 5'10 man wearing a black sleeveless Hollister shirt, baggy acid washed grey jeans and matching grey Air Max shoes. A bandana was tied around his brow, blond bangs rebelling against the restraint and narrow, glaring red eyes.

Atem's whole body vibrated with tension; his instincts were going a haze of different emotions, to protect, be on guard, attack, be calm, relax, think, be satisfied, act, or don't act. There was no way of interpreting Yami's approach. He had rebel written all over his attire, but his expression was blank, far off and secluded from the world. In fact, he eyes weren't facing forward. They were cast downward, granting the cement and blades of grass his attention as if they were the reason he made himself come.

Gratified beyond relief, Yugi opened his mouth to speak, but a squeeze on his shoulder, halt any attempts. He looked questioningly at Atem, wondering why. There was no reply. The Blue Eyes leader was keeping a diligent watch over his rival's proximity, at times darting his daze every which a way as if expecting a flood of red bloods to come pouring out of the alleyways.

Yami stopped several feet away, locked in a match of tension with wine hue eyes. His glare softened in tiny margins when landing on Yugi's worried expression. Something close to a smile started on his mouth but it was reframed. Tension sizzled in waves. No one moved. Even Kisara, who was a few yards away paused her activities to gaze at the sudden intrusion and the blame to why the air suddenly took a colder atmosphere, despite the sun's full radiance peeking through the greying clouds.

Containing the build of anxious instinct that surged through his veins was difficult, but Yami did. The hands that laid lifelessly at his side rose up and faced forward, palms open to signify something that stunned Atem. Any worries Yugi had evaporated. He shoved his shoulders free and closed the gap between them and Yami.

"You came," he said breathless and appeased. "I was worried you wouldn't."

"So was I," Yami said evenly. He gave Atem a smooth look. "Atem."

Atem nodded. "Young Blood."

Yugi suddenly bowed at the waist, eyes closed. "I wanted to say I was sorry for missing our date before. I had school and, well, it kind of got in the way, so I forgot." He flipped back up. "That doesn't mean I don't feel the same way. I really do want to continue where we left off."

The smile did manage to push pass the barrier restraining it. Yami tilted his head minutely to the side, ducking his chin to level Yugi with an expression with the equivalent gleam of an autumn morning. "I'd like that," Yami said.

Atem folded his arms from afar, witnessing a new side of his rival that he hadn't see appear in years. No amount of urging on his part could make that expression surface and yet with Yugi it appears like peeling the petals from a flower bud. Atem hummed in thought and amusement.

His legs were suddenly weighed down by a slighter figure. Atem peered down at his daughter's nosey face looking between the gaps of his legs at the newcomer. Kisara blinked and stared, watched and examined the person she remembered up close.

"Daddy, can I say hi?"

"I don't know, can you?" Atem teased.

"Daddy!" Kisara patted his leg. "Please?"

"Hm." Atem looked up. Yugi and Yami were still engaged in their silent communication thing. He cleared his throat and gained their attention. The pair looked at him and then at the tiny child hiding behind his legs. "Someone wants to say hello."

Kisara made her presence known, stepping out, shuffling her feet one over the other. "Hi, Mr. Sad Eyes."

Yami straightened his back.

Atem thought he'd piss his pants at the response. He cleared his throat again and nudged his daughter forward. Kisara fought against the pressure a little, and then caved in taking tiny, microscopic steps forward until she was standing by Yugi and in front of Yami. She reached up for Yugi's hand and kept her doe blue eyes to the ground.

"Hi," she tried again. She took a stab at looking directly at his face. The strangest scowl pinched her delicate features and she was stepping up closer to study Yami's face like she recognized it.

And she did. Kisara's face brightened. "Daddy has a picture of you."

Yami blinked, so did Yugi. Atem was the one not amused. "Kisara," he snapped warningly.

However, she paid no heed, turning a pouty face at her father. "You do. I saw it when I went in your room."

"When?"

Kisara returned her attention to the person who spoke. "A long time ago," she said to Yami, "in his closet. He keeps it locked, but I stole the key from his shoe. I wanted sweets and he hid them. So I went looking. I found it in a shoebox. I remember your face. He has lots and lots of pictures." She pointed a baby-fat finger and smiled. "You didn't have sad eyes though. They looked like Yugi's."

Yugi blanched. "Like mine?"

"Uh-huh, they were shiny like my grandpa coins. Daddy was kissing his cheek. I look like that when my daddy gives me kisses. My daddy has nice kisses. Doesn't he Yugi?"

"Uh," yeah, he would know wouldn't he? Immediate remembrance of the kisses they shared started to penetrate Yugi's brain like daggers. Sweetness filled his mouth. His face grew heavy and hot with the blush warming his face. "I guess."

"I'm sure they would both know how good your father's kisses are," Yami commented offhandedly. He lifted an eyebrow at the quiet Yugi and the shifty eyed Atem. No one said anything. He wouldn't expect them too. The aftermath of that particular incident wasn't exactly rewarding.

"Well." Yugi loudly clapped his hand together. "Let's kill this awkward moment with a game. Anyone wanna play something?"

"Depends," said Atem, shifting smoothing from the artless tension. "Hide and seek is out."

"What about hop scotch?"

"I'm a grown ass man! What the hell I look like skipping and giggling and shit?"

Yami smirked. Atem cut his eyes at him. Yugi chuckled. "Ok, that's out. What about freeze tag?"

"Oh, I like tag!" Kisara excitedly clapped. "Let's play that!"

Anything to break the ice, Atem figured. "Fine, I'll play." He looked at Yami. "What about you?"

Yami gave him a glare that wondered why his rival had the audacity to even ask.

"K, just it's just the three of us. Yugi you're it."

Yugi looked put off. "Why am I it?"

"'Cause I said so." He lightly pushed the teen away. "Go on and start. I'll come in a minute."

"Alright," Yugi looked between Yami and Atem, especially at Yami before grabbing Kisara's hand and going off to start the game.

"Yami," Atem got the man's attention once he was sure the Yugi and Kisara were out of earshot. "About that picture. . ."

"You have one of us together," Yami breathed quietly. "When was it taken? Before or after Heba?"

"Before," Atem crouched. "Why the hell would I want any afterwards? I wasn't as happy was I was when it was the three of us."

Yami took a deep breath through his nose, quelling his instinctive reaction to lash out in defense of his dead lover.

"That wasn't why I mentioned it." Atem eyes stayed locked on Yami's face. "Kisara said your eyes shined like Yugi's. Did you know, for a moment, that I saw a little of your old self when you looked at him?"

"I know," Yami confirmed, voice cool and unaltered. "He brings that out of me. Just looking at his face, it soothes me. I fought against the reason why. I thought it was because he looked a little like his brother. I know better now."

"You've changed," Atem remarked after gathering a quiet speculation of Yami's stance. "It suits you. I miss seeing that shine in your eyes."

Yami shook his head slightly. "I hate change, hate the way it's effecting me."

"He brings out that part of me, I hate to let out too, but it's probably best it happens now. Maybe that's what'll make this change interesting." Atem ducked his head, to catch Yami's eye. "It'll be nice to be around someone who won't make us look over your shoulder so much."

Yami paused, thought a moment and moistened his lips. "Maybe." He turned and went to join the sudden shrills of play and mirth taking place behind them without another word.

Unbeknownst to him, Atem had to admire the subtle changes taking over his rival and the peace enveloping him when seeing his daughter and Yugi at play. He'll tell Yami about his back being turned on him later. For now, he was gratified with what Yami's arrival meant. In his own subtle way, Yami had given his blessings to attempting another try at rekindling. They'd all enjoy the peace without worry now.

* * *

Sun light glared off the Panasonic camera lens.

_CLICK! CLICK!_

These were marvelous snapshots, all maintaining a captured instant of beauty. Frozen images paused for brief moment for the photographers examination and when satisfied, he pressed the save button and placed his eye behind the lens. Several more shots were taken. They were perfect. She was gorgeous.

"Yeah, that's it sweetheart. Keep smiling. Baby, that's perfect. Right there, right there." Dark brows furrowed tightly in lust, as he leaning forward, licking the desert dryness on his lips. He nearly lost his collected composure when she shouted out a gleeful squeal. He watched like a ravenous vulture so raptured in the way her hair sailed behind her in a weightless sheet of starlight.

The girl dodged a sneak attacked from behind and kept running in little circles, twirling on her the tip of her toes like a ballerina's last act. The stimulating sight made saliva richly coat the bed of his tongue.

Jesus, she was flawless. "Shit, give it to me. Smile. Perfect."

_CLICK! CLICK! CLICK! CLICK!_

He couldn't stand another minute of just looking. The desire, the need, the subliminal pleasure, and smothering fantasy ideas plunging his mind deep with depths of images of red staining fair white skin and the final sigh of completion before the final eye roll that defines utter defeat. . . It was all too much.

Skin softer then silk, soft like no others, not a mark ever known to pleasure it with a blemish. Her skin will glisten like a sunset's horizon over a layer of snow.

A silent moan escaped his lips; fragile body, little arms, little legs, and as delicate as a baby bird squirming for that final breath in a viper's embrace.

He couldn't wait to have her. _Oh Kisara. _Blood slipping from her lips will add to her enchanted perfection.

* * *

**Fun Fact:** The **Watts Truce** was a peace agreement among rival street gangs in Los Angeles. Although not universally adhered to, the truce was a major component of the decline of street violence in the city during the 1990s. It was declared between warring gangs in the community of Watts in the days just before the 1992 Los Angeles riots. After 20 years of internecine warfare that waged across the public housing projects of Los Angeles two rival "sets" within the infamous Crips gang decided that enough was enough.

_~side note~ Ending was slightly alterred to clear up confusion._


	17. Stroked Tensions

**Author's Rant:** Kudos to **Wings of Hikari** for not giving up on me when I was about to. Thanks babycakes ^_^.

_~Side Note~ Corrections made_

* * *

**Stroked Tensions**

* * *

Domino City was nothing, but a ticking time bomb nearing the end of it's fuse. No one knew that better then The Supreme.

He calmly removed his cigar and hissed the essence through his teeth. How long had he been waiting for this moment to come? Nearly ten years? Probably a little longer. He'd definitely had a better grasp of this city before that fool Atem and bastard Yami ever came in the picture. Those two were still swimming around in their daddies' nut sack while The Supreme had been combing the streets, fabricating his reign in throes. One such place was known as Kelly Park.

Kelly Park.

A territory that stretched from Muriel Avenue in the west to Stoneacre Avenue in the east and Alondra Blvd to the north to Greenleaf Blvd to the south. All of the terrain belonged to a virulent gang of cutthroats known as the Kelly Compton Brotherhood, nicknamed the Area Boys. The crew is built of a hundred and fifty-seven strong and growing. They had two recognizable colors representing the family, sage green and the second being beige.

In the 1970's, they went by the name Kelly Stone Wallers, but have since then stronger leadership as gravitated through the generations, strengthened the bonds between crewman and enhanced modernized skills. The K.C.B. remained scarce on radar for decades, undetected, steadily building their membership in clandestine stealth. They didn't go around exerting their power like the rival gangs who made it their business to advertise their power.

The Brotherhood didn't need to. Everyone knew to walk in the other direction as soon as they made their appearance. If you ever had the misfortune to see an Area Boy, it was always the telltale sign that someone was going to die or was already dead. There was no other reason for them to show except to take care of business and disappear. They worked low key, keeping any deals and all calls under wraps unless provoked to remind the citizens that they still existed. However, with the modern times becoming more populated and the name of only two gangs being the ones to make Domino City quake in its boots, it was time for a change in scenery

Not to mention, there was a little something called revenge in order.

A murder was committed of one of their own a month ago. One of the high top crews of Domino, the Red Eye Spades O.G. Yami Sennen, had gunned down Ushio, the current Supreme over the Brotherhood's son. Since then, there'd been losses that were more hazardous. A crackdown occurred on Stoneacre Avenue and a piece of Alondra Blvd three weeks ago. The other reigning gang T.O.G. Atem Hassan confiscated it. You see, that was about over two hundred and seventy five grand taken in the span of eight days. It'd taken The Brotherhood a generation of family members to secure that lot and manipulate it to fit their preferences.

That just won't do. The Supreme wasn't feeling those losses and especially didn't care for the death of his son to that block headed bitch Yami. There was already a little something in store for him, but Atem was the one he had money to take care of first. Zigfried emptied out a good deal of those fools' bank accounts to pay the Supreme's men to infiltrate the RES and BEA's street networks. According to the last report given by one of his suppliers, thirty-nine of his men had joined inside the RES and forty-two were creeping inside the BEA.

The Supreme took a long pull of his thick Cuban cheroot and exhaled the wispy smoke through his teeth. The tobacco burned in his chest like soup, relaxing the stress in his bones. It felt good to let loose for a minute.

He had a meeting with Zigfried again this evening, this time at the Supreme's crib, to discuss what their next plan of attack was. The procrastinating part was what irked Supreme the most. All this waiting and shit meant little to nothing to him because he wasn't gaining anything until that little girl was supposed to be laid out. The roll of child murderer was going to be handled by yours truly and he wanted that shit on full display for that motherfucker Atem to see.

Such a damn shame. She's a pretty little thing.

Glossy laminated pictures sat by his armchair on a round red wood tabletop. There were several of them, each capturing a distilled moment in time that enhanced her gorgeous face more so then the last. The saying is a picture is worth a thousand words, but in Supremes' opinion, true beauty was priceless.

He took another drag of his cigar and tapped it on the marble ashtray.

His home was in the neck deep in the minority portion of Domino City, a piece of history that has long since been forgotten. On the outside, his home was a true legacy of mother Italy. It was enormous, extravagantly majestic, commanding eyes as far as Domino City Tower. It was two stories tall, with a winding reddish gold brick path leading to the front entrance, which was sheltered beneath an overhead balcony. The structure was made of white plaster stone and rust brown shingles on the roofs and windows. Potted palm trees guarded the way up the ten wide stone stairs and the large master doors.

Supreme enjoyed the view of his lands from his balcony, lounging in one of his reclining beach chairs. The scent of food started to whiff in his nose. Mother of Jesus that woman could cook. His wife was probably up to her neck in making Penne all'arrabbiata, sprinkled with diced Pancetta seasoned in red spices, garlic bread smothered in warm butter and white cream cheese, and mashed potatoes.

"Il mio amore, dinner is ready," said a voice softer then angel wings.

Ushio Tetsu Senior rose up to his feet and stretched his six-foot five frame. His wife, a petite and thickly curvy woman of Mexican descent, stood in the doorway with long black hair plaited in a low ponytail. She was wearing her favorite flora apron, pink tank top and blue jeans, bare foot.

Esperanza Isabella Tetsu may be smaller, but she was the only person in the world not intimidated by her husband's stature. He had a thick, finely combed goatee, brown damp curly hair parted down the middle. He was wearing a winter green linen button-down shirt and dark tan linen trousers. Supreme locked his brownish red eyes on his wife and for a while, nothing else mattered.

If for no one else, he'd assuredly get revenge for having to witness this woman break down and wept over their son's dead body. Make no mistake. Hell was going to unleash like a tidal wave over Domino City soon. Very soon.

* * *

Duke is always diligent in his line work. Always have been always will be. Nothing missed his sharp jade eyes. He counted six cars, a rundown red and cream 1996 Ford Pick Up, a beat up dirt brown 1981 Station Wagon and a rusted 1990 royal blue Camaro to her left. To his flank were two mustangs lined along the curb, one a red 2001 and the other a yellow 1989 and the last car about several meters off furthest from the rest was a 2002 Silver Pontiac.

Seven men and two girls were hanging around the curbs and empty lots posted as Red Eye runners to the frequent visitors. Bagmen were stationed on each angled post, two pushers parked on the curb and three other casually dressed guards keeping watch of where the merchandise was being sold. Keeping supervision over both territories was a full time jig; one he wished wasn't so damn strenuous.

He drove around in a 2012 off white Civic Sedan, scooping out the activities of the streets, keeping an eye out for recruiters peddling around for teenagers out past curfew. He kept a clipboard on hand for every citizen seen outside of Medium Territory and recorded their whereabouts at exactly what time, their current location as well as who they were seen with. If by tomorrow morning they weren't reported back home by whatever patrol had that sector, Duke would call it in to Pegasus and have an investigation set forth to find that person.

It was a busy line of work, but Duke couldn't complain about the pay. He was earning what most the kids in his school wouldn't make until retirement and then some. He reached McGregor and Lafayette Grove, did a U-turn in the dead end and swirled back to finish off his route. He had another three hours before his shift was taken over. After checking out the same few people, Duke turned his car into a gap between two adjoining, abandoned buildings.

He turned off the ignition and hobbled out of the driver's seat, and sat lazily on the hood of his car, hands anchored between his knees and the tip of his white and black Chicago Bulls's hat pulled low over his eyes. He was practically an eyesore, wearing his white skinny Levi's, white C-neck Henley shirt and white high top Converse shoes. There wasn't a point with blending in since everyone knew he was a patroller for the Mediums.

With no action going on besides the typical business ventures, Duke was bored out of his mind. He sighed and leaned back on his hands, looking up at the dawning sky. This was punishment. It had to be. Pegasus was tripping on his high horse about something, and poor Duke was on the wrong end of that madness, having to work these extra hours right after school. He hadn't had time to go to basketball practice or spend time with his boyfriend, Trevor Williams.

Speaking of whom, Duke was currently skating on thin ice with. They hadn't had a chance to hook up in weeks. The lack of time and constant late night nights were wearing on their relationship. Trevor, being the sarcastic ass he was, threatened on several occasions to spend more of his time with baseball then Duke the next time he had free time, just to see how he liked being neglected.

All this damn stress was draining. Duke finally caved in to his fatigue and leisurely leaned back against his windshield, closing his eyes. He tried to take his mind elsewhere, away from the funky atmosphere of drug dealers and paper wrappers. He reached in his pocket for a stick of bubble gum, unwrapping the colorful yellow and blue coating before popping it his mouth.

_Oh, oh, sometimes I get a good feeling, yeah  
I get a feeling that I never never never never had before, no no  
I get a good feeling, yeah  
Oh oh, sometimes I get a good feeling, yeah  
I get a feeling that I never never never never had before, no no  
I get a good feeling, yeah_

Fuck. Should've expected this.

Duke sat up, whipped out his cell and glided his thumb across the glass screen. "Yeah," he answered, dully.

"_What kind of excuse are you gonna preach to me this time? You working late, you gotta arrest somebody or you just forgot that today was my birthday." _Trevor's monotone voice man never failed to sooth Duke's irritation. Even if he was angry, it didn't keep Duke's lips from stretching in wide grin.

"First of all, it's not your birthday. Nice try on that one, and its excuse number one," Duke said. "That's a nice hello, babes. You missin' me already?"

"_. . . I haven't had much time to see you, kiddo," _chuckled Trevor. _"Doesn't sound like you miss me as much as I miss you."_

"'Course I miss you! You're all I think about when I'm out here in these slums. I love my chocolate thunder."

"_Mm, well your chocolate's gonna melt if you don't eat it soon."_

Who was he telling? "Babe, give me until about eleven to come see you—"

"_Eleven?"_ Trevor shrieked. _"Eleven? Damn Duke, that's the fourth time since last week._" Duke heard him suck his teeth over the phone. He gulped back the laugh buried in his throat that he knew would piss his boyfriend off further. It was just sexy to hear him get mad though.

"_You make me sick you know that?"_ Trevor continued. "_I cooked all this shit, thinkin' you'd come over. You said you were coming over! Fuck!"_

Duke snickered behind his fist. "Chill out, will ya? I'm still comin'. It's just gonna be a little late. Whatcha' cook for me anyway?"

"_Your favorites, stupid. Cabbages, candied yams—you know how long it took to peel that shit?—macaroni with extra cheese, fried pork chop—mind you I marinated this since yesterday, and an apple pie with whipped cream."_

Duke groaned hungrily. "God, I love you, but damn. You couldn't wait until I got there to fix all that. It's gonna get cold."

"_So what? I'm already putting it in the fridge."_

"Can you fix me a plate?"

"_Nope, ain't anything wrong with your hands. Fix the shit yourself."_

"Whoa, ease up on me, will ya?" Duke spat his hum on the ground and hopped off the car to pace on the sidewalk. "Why you got an attitude with me, huh? You make it seem like it's my fault I'm out making paper."

"_I'm not sweatin' you about what you do, Duke! It's the principle of everything. When you make a promise to me I expect it to be kept! The logic ain't that damn hard to figure out!"_

Just as Duke turned on his heel for the next rotation in front of his car, his green eyes did a quick double take straight ahead. His eyes narrowed as thin as switchblades. There, if he wasn't mistaken, were two foreign hustlers dipping between the buildings across the street. That wouldn't have put Duke on guard had it not been for the shade of blue peeking from underneath their shirts. Either these two were newbies in the area, or incredibly fucking stupid to be wearing those colors in this part of town. You so much as sneezed in a blue napkin; you'll be filled with bullet holes.

Duke's eyes grew three sizes too big for his face when he saw the pair stall at the end, wave and suddenly a Cadillac pulled up.

It was full of both red bloods and blue bloods. What in the hell was going on? This knee deep into Red Eye Territory and this kind of shit was happening.

"Babe, baby shut up!" Duke's voice sliced through Trevor's ranting like butter. "Listen, I need to call you back. We'll talk about this later. Love you."

"_Duke—"_

He hung up before Trevor could start catch his breath. Duke hit speed dial.

The noise of the phone's continuous ringing didn't do anything to calm Duke's nerves.

Pegasus finally picked up. "_What is it?"_

Duke cupped the phone to his ear. "You won't believe what I just saw." He said, pacing again. "A grey Cadillac Deville, probably a '98 or '99, came up here packed with red _and _blue bloods."

"_. . . You're not serious."_

"As a heart attack, sir. I thought it was strange too, but all of them just hopped in the car and headed off East."

Duke could tell the wheels were screeching in his employer's head. Pegasus made a growling sound in the back of his throat and said, _"Follow them. Take down the license plate number, get their names, addresses, everything. Learn what you can and report back. I'll take care of the rest on my end."_

"Will do," Duke hung up. He smacked the phone to his forehead and stared heaven bound. Looks like he wasn't going to be keeping that eleven o'clock promise either.

* * *

"So, you hold the bat like this and it's better to keep your upper torso twisted. Since you're a girl, they have to do a little more. You keep your feet planted firm on the ground. No matter what you do, keep them flat. It'll keep you focused in one direction. Keep your eyes on the target at all times. See, the ball will come from this way where the pitcher's mound is. Always check for his hand signs. He'll try to sneak a few to the catcher behind you. If you can identify all the hand gestures you'll get an idea of what kind of ball they'll throw. You getting all this?"

Yugi and Kisara were in the middle of the playground, with a plastic bat in her hands. Yugi circled her five times; poking her in places she needed to correct and giving praises where it was due. He hadn't stopped talking about his passion since she asked him what his favorite hobby was. His mouth ran like a marathon, explaining the sport from start to finish, the rules and regulations and his favorite team and players.

The entire time Kisara was grazing up at Yugi with bright eyes, nodding fervently. "Can I swing like this or do I have to wait until the pitcher says so?"

Another one of his famous qualities was patience. He was sure he'd explained this part twice before, but wouldn't mind doing it again.

"No, you swing as soon as he throws the pitch. Watch me." Yugi ran a few feet over to a hill of sand. There was a bucket of foam balls Yugi retrieved from a toy compartment made for the children to use whenever they needed extra equipment to play with. He collected three, shoving two in his back pocket and positioned himself at the ready. "OK, Kisara, eyes on me. Wait, until I throw the ball and just when its in reach, you swing. Got it?"

"OK!" Kisara stomped her feet in the dirt and wiggled the plastic bat in her hands. She was ready. "You watching me, Daddy?"

Atem waved from the swing set. "Do good, baby girl!"

"Ready?" Yugi hunkered down, thinning his eyes. His mouth set into a firm line. Silence overcame the air, Yugi watching Kisara and Kisara watching Yugi. The tension burst. Yugi slid his foot, wound his arm back and flung it forward. The ball was coming at an impressive eighty-eight miles per hour. It was half way to her when he realized his mistake. He'd just performed a fast pitch to a five-year-old child. Foam ball or not, the strength behind it could render her unconscious.

Yugi yowled at the top of his lungs when there didn't seemed to be an end to the ball's speed.

"Duck Kisara!"

Kisara frowned, confused. She lowered the bat, the round object sailing straight for her forehead. Atem leapt to his feet. Yugi panicked, fear powering his feet into overdrive.

Yami was by her in seconds. He caught the ball in his right hand before it made contact and squeeze the spin to a standstill. Looking over his shoulder, he saw Kisara wide eyed and awe blazing. "Ya good?" he asked.

She nodded numbly.

"That was amazing!" Yugi ran over as he strained his eyes to see the sharp pitch tamed in Yami's hand. The way he caught it without preparation was remarkable. Even Yugi would have to be on full guard to catch anything coming more than eighty-five mph. When he looked up with a slacked-jaw expression, Yami was carefully tossing the ball up and down in his hand. "You caught that—and you didn't even—it was coming so fast—and she was nearly—wow!" He was cheery as a baby boy in a toy store. "Where you'd you learn to catch like that?"

Yami looked at him strangely. "I thought I told you I played baseball for a minute. I was co-captain."

"You were? Where? When do you play? You gotta teach me how to catch like that!"

Atem's laughter thundered from behind. "Listen to him, you'd think somebody said you shitted gold. By the way, Young Buck." Atem smacked Yugi on the back of the hand so hard he felt the vibrations in his feet.

"What the hell?" Yugi shrieked.

"Watch what you're doin' next time, fool." Atem smacked him a second time, ignoring Yugi's outcry, before saying, "Yami played at Domino High."

Yugi rubbed over his sore head.

Yami chuckled despite himself. "We both did, around the same time as Heba. I played co-captain to his captain."

"They nicknamed him Black Jack," Atem went on to say. "Other teams never saw 'em coming for any of the games. Who was the coach back then? I forget his name. Anyway, Coach never wanted anyone seeing Yami catch or pitch because he feared he'd be recruited early."

"Did you play baseball too?" Yugi asked.

"Hell, no. Basketball's more my thing. Point guard number twenty-six." Atem feigned a free shot from where he was standing. "I played for a couple of years, but that was about it."

"Were you any good?"

"Was I? Shit, you better ask somebody. Who you think put those trophies in the front office? Sure as hell wasn't Duke."

Yugi thought on that a moment, working out the calculations in his head. "Wait, you won the state championships for '98 and '99?"

"One and the same."

"Wow," Yugi smirked, impressed. "So why didn't either of you consider going pro?"

"Grades," they both said at once.

"But." That didn't make sense to Yugi. "If you were able to play for even a year, you kept your grades up somehow didn't you?"

Atem lowered his arms and shoved his hands into his pockets. "I wasn't going to school, just to go. My father invested money in a few of the folks there. It was my job to keep an eye on the merchandise. Everything in between was just extra."

Yugi stared at him for a beat before withdrawing a step. "You dealt drugs in the school," he confirmed with little else.

"I said _I kept an eye_ on the merchandise," Atem sternly corrected.

"We don't deal," Yami added in, voice an extra baritone to Yugi's ears. "The runners take care of that bit. We keep order."

"You did it too?"

"No," Yami pointedly looked at Atem this time, gaze intense and thin. He managed an impassive face while keeping the disgruntled base in his voice. "I had other priorities to take care of."

"Indeed, you did," Atem lowered his voice in a careful emphasis that there may be a disagreement brewing. "How else were you to qualify as a blue blood if we didn't think you take care of business?"

The undeniable shock muted Yugi's ears from the moment of hearing that statement, the steady building roar steadily growing. Yugi tried to catch Yami's eye, but the Red Eye's leader was employed with burning a hole in Atem's head.

Yugi shook his head stunned. "You, Yami, you—you never told me."

Yami dragged his eyes away and looked hard at Yugi. "Should I be obligated to tell you everything? What difference would it have made?"

"None, I just," _it would've been nice to know, maybe to learn a little bit more about you_, Yugi would've said if it was for this stupid frog in his throat. He cleared his throat as the excessive staring became too much for him to ignore. Yugi decided that silence would work best in his favor. He wanted to say something, but words failed him. It always seemed to land on him being the oddball out between these two. Was it his fault he was out of the loop?

"Whatever, forget it. I don't wanna know anyway." Yugi kicked at a rock, ambled over to the swing set, and grabbed the one closest to the left bars. He needed some space, partially to escape the humiliation of giving a damn about Yami's past and partially to get some air from the stifling tension between those two. Guess he shouldn't have it expected to be that easy. No one could forget his or her bitter conflict like that in one day. He'd have to be a total nut to think it was possible.

The neighboring rubber swing to his right creaked and jingled. "You know," Atem started as he sunk into the rubber saddle. "It's a wonder, he could ever keep company with the way he treats people."

"Yeah," Yugi could definitely agree with that. He withheld a sigh of frustration. "It's impossible to get close to someone who keeps their walls up. How does a guy like that make friends?"

"Easy, he doesn't. With all he's been through, Yami has every right to keep his defenses. They've never failed him."

_Oh. Oh yeah_. Some of the angry sizzled away. Yugi had forgotten about that. The small piece of Yami that he had shared with Yugi . . . the youth shook his head. He was getting greedy. Just because Yami shared one of the most intimated secrets of his past, did that automatically make Yugi entitled to the rest of his secrets?

Now, he felt lousy. "I hate shoving my foot in my mouth." He sighed. "Should I apologize?"

"You might, you know Yami isn't gonna. The bastard's got the head of a bull."

Speak of the devil.

Yami was coming over with Kisara in tow, not holding her hand. She was trailing behind like a little duckling.

Yugi felt his breath coming short, his eyes squinting as though to deny himself sunlight. He swallowed the closer the man came, no stagger in his stride or unbalanced poise. Was there anything that fazed him? Does he always try to keep his cool when deep down Yugi knew he wanted to be angry? What did Yami have to lose by showing his emotions? Didn't he know it was OK to show what he was feeling?

Yugi glanced at him sideways and then sighed, and faced Yami fully. It was now or never. "I'm sorry," he gestured with his hands. "I shouldn't have pried like that. If you ever feel like telling me anything, I don't mind listening. You've listened to me lots of times." Yugi smiled small. "If you can trust me enough to."

Yami's facial expressions revealed a little dent in his composure. He leaned his back against the reclining poll and folded his arms. His mouth morphed into a frown line. "I've given enough of myself to you as proof that I'm willing to try. Understand it won't be easy. There are things about myself I'm not proud of. So, I'd rather not share."

Yugi was afraid to interrupt because this was the most he could remember squeezing out of the Red Eyes leader. He wasn't much of a conservationist.

"Sharing is caring," Kisara said, dissecting the quiet atmosphere. "My teacher, Ms. James, says you gotta share 'cause that means you care." She nodded wisely and looked up at her father's stunned expression. "She says you can make friends that way too. Mr. Sad Eyes you gotta share yourself to make friends and then they can care about you. Right, Daddy?"

"Erm, nah baby girl, you're on your own with that one." Atem chuckled sheepishly. "I ain't got a clue what you're talkin' about."

Kisara cupped her hands on her narrow hips. "You have to pay attention to the words coming out of my mouth, Daddy. That's what you always tell me."

"That's because Daddy has a lesson behind everything he tells you," he winked, and reached out for her. She shuffled over and stood between his legs. "You think Mr. Sad Eyes should share what he's feeling to us?"

She nodded. "Yep, that way he won't look so sad anymore. He can have eyes like Yugi does."

Yugi blushed awkwardly, a little warm around the ears.

"Sharing isn't easy for me, little one," Yami quietly murmured. "I don't have a lot of myself to spread before I'm used all up."

Kisara smiled. "Then you gotta find the right people you like to share their selves with you. That way it's an even trade."

Yami blinked rapidly, set back in his usual quiet self. He chanced at glance at Atem to see him staring intently with a cool, proud smirk on his face.

"Outta the mouths of babes," Atem shrugged helplessly, though he didn't look the part of a defeated parent. Quite the opposite; he looked very proud of his little girl's wisdom. "Whatcha' gonna do?"

"I think we should work on figuring where she gets that mouth from. Seriously, where does she get this stuff?" Yugi said. "There's definitely a thirty-year-old woman in there."

"Amen." Atem said, appeased at the _'we'_ part.

Yami licked his lips. He had to find his tongue to say something, or somehow convey the overwhelming sensations bubbling in his gut. Being around these people, it was so foreign for him to feel even remotely like there could be a connection. For a child to say something so simple . . . was it really that easy.

_If only a little. . ._

Yami fell away from his perch, kneeling down into the dirt. He held out his hands and looked up at Atem. The Blue Eyes leader firmed his grasp on Kisara a moment, cautious, and then secondly let her go. Kisara walked over to Yami's outstretched hands. His darker, larger, calloused hands enveloped the tenderly fragile appendages as if they'd crumble to ashes.

He leaned forward, holding Kisara's eyes and stilling his gaze when Kisara leaned in as well as if to be let in on a secret. He moistened his lips again, breathing unsteadily. Someone flawed, blemished in spirit and mind, with only a piece of their heart left intact, was it so simple?

He squeezed her hands the same time he felt a supportive clap on his shoulder. Yugi knew it was something he needed, especially at a time like now.

"Is sharing really worth it?" Yami said calmly, ignoring the incredulous buzz in his own veins warning him not to go down that route again. "Why should I give all that's left of me away?"

"Not giving away, silly. It's sharing because they can give it back." Kisara wiggled her fingers in his grasp. "I can share myself too. You can share yourself with me, OK?"

Yami met her eyes fully where they'd been drifting away.

"So you won't be sad anymore. Sad people need hugs. Can I hug you?"

Yami sharply inhaled, chest constricted, air lunged where the cork wedged in his chest. Kisara squirmed her hands loose and the petty pat of her baby doll shoes echoed one by one, each other than the last in the slowest motion. Her arms rose and fell around his neck. Breathing became difficult. Yami wasn't sure he could remember. It was all blurry, his throat was drying, his fingers clenched and flexed, clenched and flexed in this dire desire to offend himself.

_She wasn't a threat, she wasn't a threat_, and he chanted until the mantra was all he heard and her racing heartbeat.

Kisara held that position for a minute before stepping back. "Feel better?"

Yami's sigh sounded like rattling paper. The tension released in his muscles, a ligament at a time, before he collected his face. "Yes." Yami hadn't ever thought it could be so easy to worm through his barriers by bashing straight on. Kisara didn't use brunt force. A tender touch and a soft feminine touch was what it took. He'd never experienced such a thing.

Heedless to say, he would still need time to gain any kind of trust, especially towards Atem.

Yet, if his rival was willing to accept a fifty-fifty chance, could Yami?

"Why don't we make this a little easier on ourselves and start off fresh for the lot of us." Atem stood up from his saddle and joined the others. "Come to my place," he landed a hand on Yugi's shoulder, stirring a stunned violet eye upward. "We'll have dinner, chat, watch a little TV and go from there."

Yugi beamed. "I think that's a great idea. Yeah, sure we can all meet up and hang out together."

Yami stood as well. "Lest you forget who I am?" He turned to the side and tapped his exposed shoulders. RES tattoos landscaped his flesh from joint to joint. "I'm not about to waltz into blue blood lands. If one your fools so much as look at me cross eyed, I'm blazing the streets," he said, menacingly serious.

"You think I can't handle my men?" Atem accused calmly. "Who you think runs who? If I say you're welcome into my home, that's what it'll be."

"You can't really expect me to walk into the lion's den. I mean, just like that?"

"What I'm expecting is you to take this step forward and away from this rivalry, Yami!"

"Guys, guys come on," Yugi shoved his way between them before the situation turned worst. Yugi pressed his hand to their chests, pressing outward. "Can't we at least try, Yami? What do you have to lose? There's so much to gain."

Yami said nothing, stubbornly looking to the side.

"Yami, please?" Yugi stressed softly, turning fully to the solitary man. He used two hands instead of one to palm Yami's shoulders. "I'd like to. I wanna see you for who you could be instead of this hard shell you portray of yourself."

Still quiet, still brooding, still cautious, Yami lifted one hand and crushed Yugi's left one in a death grip.

It hurt. Yugi squirmed, feeling bones grind and creak beneath the powerful clasp. He in took a sharp breath, shutting his eyes against the bone-cracking agony.

A warm embrace landed on top of his and Yami's. The two glanced behind. Atem was there, tall, imposing, looming and just existing. His fingers braided over Yami's loosening the hold he held over Yugi until the cooling blood flow rushed in.

"Try," he said. "That's all I'm asking Yami. For me, for Kisara, and for Yugi, he's begging you to give it a shot."

Yami ground his teeth together, closing his eyes to the reasoning tone.

"I'm beyond sick of this feud. I wanna be done with it. Red spills blue, blue spills red, when's this shit gonna end?" Atem sighed. "Every day we walk outta the house, thinking how we're gonna fuck up the other man's day. You ain't getting tired of it too?"

"It's all I know," Yami deep moaned like a wounded animal. "I don't know how to do anything else 'cept protect myself. Get to them before they get to me."

Yami was shaking. Yugi couldn't believe it. This tall, terrifying villain of South Domino was trembling. Yugi felt every jolt beneath his palm. It was unreal, knowing this man had a fear.

"It doesn't have to be like that," Yugi whispered. "You can try, please try, trust me, and trust him. You said you'd share yourself with Kisara. Give us that opportunity too."

Yami shook himself free. He needed some space. He needed to think. "Don't, just no, I don't know. I can't do this now. I need to go." Turning on his heel, Yami started to his car.

"Yami!" Yugi was tugged back before he could go after the older male. "Why?" he questioned his captive.

"Baby steps, Young Buck. Baby steps. Yami will come around on his own time. We gotta give him his space. Piling too much on him could make 'em break."

"But," Yugi stopped struggling and looked on to the departing figure, mourning the stupid loneliness he didn't want the man to suffer from. "Will he be OK?"

"Yami's skin's tougher then mine. He'll live." Atem checked his side pocket when his phone buzzed. He read the text, puzzled and responded, replacing it back in his pocket. "Come on, I'll take you home."

Yugi hesitated. He was ready to go, not until he saw Yami duck inside his car and drive down the street. Seeing him go, Yugi couldn't get comfortable with seeing him go alone. . .

"Come on," Atem urged again and called out for Kisara to join them to his car.

The two at long left the park with complicated thoughts. Yugi, as soon as he reached Atem's car, had decided he was about to chance his life once more by visiting Yami.

. . . And Atem needed to go investigate some dangerously, disturbing details, such as why some new cats were roaming around on his turf.

* * *

**TBC: Will proofread tomorrow. Gooood night!**


	18. Granted Chances

**Author's Rant: **Thanks for reading everyone. Enjoy the next chapter!

* * *

**Granted** **Chances**

* * *

No one noticed when the young man began silently trudging down the sidewalk, his head held high and his hands shoved in his pockets. So, what did it matter? Yusei was used to the unknown-but scarily familiar-stranger-on-school-campus treatment, despite his name still being in the school records. He was used to not being noticed by a majority of the population too.

This was the first time in days he'd earned a chance to get some free time away from the ambitious needs of his street family. Seth was being mindboggling generous and paid Yusei a hefty sum to satisfy him for the next couple of months.

Yusei's fingers secretly leafed through the thick wad of cash buried in the pocket of his leather jacket and smirked. There was enough money to buy a house, a decent mode of transportation and plenty more to spend on whatever he wanted. Yusei knew the argument with Jaden was probably going to refresh in his mind once Yusei saw him, but after he showed him the money, all would be forgiven. Jaden said he understood Yusei's decision from the beginning anyway, so he could comprehend the choices he made when he made them, right?

Right.

With Yusei having been gone for so long from Heartfelt Academy, it wasn't a surprise that the new crop of students wouldn't recognize him, but the few lingering glances from those his age had some wondering if they were seeing a mirage or if it really was their old classmate. Yusei spotted a couple of familiar faces in the crowd, but paid them no mind. He had one specific face in mind and couldn't wait to see him.

Yusei, dressed in his senior school uniform, a plain white t-shirt, his ocean blue blazer, unzipped to the waist, some pressed black pants with old school Retro Jordans, strolled through the metal double doors and was caught in a mass of old friends he hadn't seen in weeks. He was noisily greeted from every direction by his old lacrosse team and among them was a guy he thought wouldn't give him the time of day.

His best friend Jack, the sophisticated spiky, blond haired Brit, wearing the same uniform as Yusei minus his blazer, swung his arm around Yusei's shoulders and ruffled his hair affectionately. "Well, if you ain't a sight for sore eyes, mate. We hadn't see ya since Moby Dick was a guppy! How you been?"

Yusei let himself receive the little rough house greeting from his old friends and chuckled. "I've been great. Can't complain, just handling business. You know how that is sometimes."

"Nah, not really," said another old friend from the sidelines, Crow Hogan, an auburn haired firecracker in junior year wearing the gold jacket and matching pants. "We wouldn't know a damn thing about workin' for the blue bloods. But I betcha' makin' enough loot to make that windbag Jack, here, jealous, huh? Huh?" Crow elbowed goodheartedly.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," Yusei chortled for a moment, gazing up and down at the slowly emptying halls. "Have any of you guys seen Jaden? I wanna tell my babes I'm here to see 'em."

All of them went quiet. So quiet and lucidly nervous, that Yusei's smile fell and he arched his eyebrow at everyone in turn, waiting for an answer. "What? Everyone suddenly gone deaf?" he asked jokingly. "Come on, where is he?"

Jack was the first to recover, scratching behind his head. "Look, lad, you've been gone a long time. Things tend to change after a while . . ."

"_Right _and you're not makin' any sense. Does anyone else wanna give it a shot at explaining to me what's going on?"

Again there was a long suspicious silence that had the hairs on the back of Yusei's neck bristling. He morphed from that happy-at-ease-friend to that all American gangster who wasn't feeling up to any bullshit. "Either somebody start's talking or we gonna have some problems. What's going on?" A realization sunk in his stomach. "Did something happen to him? Is he all right? He didn't get hurt did he?" Yusei would kick his own ass for believing Jaden would be safe here without him. Fuck, if any of those red bloods laid a hand on what's his—

"Jaden's fine," mumbled Crow, shuffling his feet on the ground. "Actually, he's more than fine. He's really fine."

Yusei frowned. "You aren't tryin' to hit on my dude are ya?"

Crow held up his hands fast, shaking his head. "No, no, no, hell no, no way! Why would I want too? We all know how crazy jealous you are. Fuck that, he's not worth that kind of trouble."

"Then someone needs to start beatin' their damn gums!"

"Ease up on us, lad," said Jack. "We're tryin' to save ya from embarrassment."

"What kind of embarrassment?"

Fate proved to be a cruel son of a bitch sometimes. Several doors down, just as the corridors cleared of every single student save for Yusei and his friends, one of the red doors leading to the upstairs stairwell opened. Yusei immediately knew the blue haired sophomore emerging first. Jesse Anderson, one of the new drama student favorites from what Jaden kept bragging about. Seeing him shouldn't have been a big deal.

It was who he held his hand out for and tugged forward that had Yusei seething on the inside like a bull. Jaden appeared, eyes blazing like honeysuckles in the afternoon sun, smiling up at Jesse like he held the secrets to life. That wasn't all. Jesse held that gaze, reflecting all kinds of raw emotion and open care. It had Yusei's chest aching and his blood boiling.

A jolt of fury surged to the soles of Yusei's feet and propelled him in a slow, stalking approach down the hall. He ignored the protests of his friends to calm down. Fuck them. Yusei's entire world was muted.

His feet picked up speed when Jesse started caressing the side of Jaden's jaw—the same fucking way Yusei did before they made love—and how Jaden leaned into the touch, pressing his lips against the smooth palm—the same fucking way he did for Yusei. The dark haired gang member was so pissed he couldn't see passed the tunnel of hatred.

Without warning, Jesse was leaning forward, pressing a kiss on Jaden's forehead . . . on his eyes . . . on his cheek . . . and then on his lips . . . Yusei broke into a full run down the hall, footsteps echoing his raging approach and signaling to the unsuspecting couple, that danger was coming.

Jaden spotted him first before Jesse did.

Jaden knew it was coming, he saw the way Yusei's fingers clenched by his side; he saw how dilated his eyes were. What Yusei wasn't expecting, however, was for Jaden to meet him halfway and block his charge, spreading his arms with a look of pure determination on his face.

Yusei stopped short of running Jaden over and tried to circle by him. Jaden blocked his way.

"Yusei—Yusei stop!" Jaden begged, pushing at Yusei's shoulders. "What are you doing here—Yusei would you stop?"

"Move," Yusei hissed after his third attempt was foiled. "Get outta my damn way!"

Jaden countered with his slighter weight, failing to completely cease Yusei's assault. The older teen had strength, stamina, and a will like concrete, but Jaden refused to back down. It didn't help either when Jesse tried to shove Jaden to the side and face Yusei head on.

"Oh? So you wanna step up to this, huh?" barked Yusei. "Fuckin' move Jaden!"

"You don't scare me," Jesse taunted, cockily. "I'll wipe the floor with you from A to C hall. Yeah, Jaden move. Let 'em see what's it like to face a real beat down!"

Jaden swirled his head back. "Don't talk to him like that, Jesse!" Jaden snapped.

Jesse looked offended. "Are you serious right now? Why get mad at me? He's the one who came here about to attack!"

"That's because you touchin' what's mine!" Yusei ceased his struggles to crush Jaden to his chest, and planted an open mouth kiss on his cheek. "See that? That's real love. You ain't got nothin' on me, kid. I've claimed him, he's mine! So whatever lil' puppy love shit you got goin' can stop right here." Yusei moved in to prove his point with another kiss.

Jaden wasn't having any of that and started to squirm and thrash until Yusei loosened his grip confused. The brunet stepped back, shaking his head, eyes bowed to the ground. Worse of all, he kept retreating until his back bumped into Jesse's chest.

Yusei's chest constricted. "Jaden, babes, look I know you're pissed but we can fix everything, make our relationship right. See, check this out." Yusei reached inside his pocket and pulled a rubber banded stack of green in his hand. "We got enough money here to last us to old age. We can go places; go buy some clothes, a new car, whatever you want—"

"No."

Yusei paused. "What?"

Jaden shook his head slowly. "I said, no. No Yusei, just—just go away."

"G-go away? What," Yusei wasn't sure he was hearing right. He gave his head a little shake to clear off the confusion. "Babe, you're just mad. Let's go talk somewhere, somewhere quiet so we can make this right. You don't have to worry about there being a problem between us anymore. I got some off time for a few weeks—"

"I don't care, Yusei. I don't," Jaden swallowed mournfully, quaking from head to toe, "I don't care anymore. I don't care what you do, but I'm not going to go through it. I just, why don't you just go away? I don't even know why you bothered to come here."

"Why I bothered to—Jaden, ain't that much obvious?" Yusei chuckled humorlessly. "I love you, babes. I came to see you."

"Because it was convenient for you. The next time, you're probably gonna go dash off somewhere to kill or steal or get hurt. I can't deal with having that on my conscience anymore!" Jaden was shaking like a leaf caught in a storm. He folded his arms across his chest and sunk harder into Jesse's chest. "I've moved on ok. I wanna be with someone who won't hurt me so much, who can be around when I need him, who can hold me and you can't do that. I'm tired of it Yusei. I'm done."

"Jaden, J, are you listening to yourself? Babes, let's talk about this—"

"No, I'm done talking. I've tried talking to you about this week, but you've never had enough time. It's always been about you."

"About me?" Yusei wasn't hearing this. There was no way. "So, whatcha' tryin' to say? That it's over between us? You gonna choose some _no name chump _over me? You're picking a few years over a few days? Is that it?"

Jaden flinched, but stood strong. "He's given me more in those few days then you ever did in the past few months. It's-it's over Yusei."

Yusei took a step forward. "Jaden—"

"Just go away! Go, just go! I don't care what you do!" Jaden shrugged away from Jesse's warmth and started shoving and pushing Yusei in the direction of the exit doors. "Go find someone else to cry over you every fucking night and pray every damn morning that you're alive to see the sun. That isn't gonna be me anymore Yusei! I deserve better than that!"

The hurt, torment, the sorrow and woe bursting from Jaden's words also poured from the corner of his eyes as he stared like a desperate child up at Yusei's wounded expression. Jaden loved him, God, all he wanted to do was wrap his arms around this man and hold him close so their hearts could beat in harmony. However, it wasn't worth the suffering, the misery and fear of losing him anymore. Jaden couldn't live like that, wondering, hoping and wishing for strength to carry him through another day without Yusei.

"I love you," Yusei whispered in a coursed tone. "Don't do this to us."

"If you did, you wouldn't have left me that night. Yusei. . . I can't do this. I'm tired. So, please, go," Jaden hiccupped, "I can't, just leave me alone."

Jesse chose then to wrap his arms around Jaden's neck and tugged him back. He sealed the heart wrenching moment when he leaned forward and placed a kiss under Jaden's ear. Jaden closed his eyes and turned his face to the side, dismissing this—this thing between him and Yusei forever. When he opened his eyes again, he saw Yusei's back growing smaller and smaller as he walked away down the hall.

The instincts to run after him were activating in Jaden's mind. He wanted to go and tell him to come back, to bring Yusei back and tell him it was all a lie, a cruel joke to get him to see how much Jaden truly cared about them being together. But he had his pride. It was battered and stepped on too much for him to allow himself to be shown as a whimpering fool.

Yusei reached the double doors.

Jaden held his breath.

By the slowest degrees, Yusei turned around, raven blue eyes full of a million and one emotions, rage, regret, sadness, sorrow, bitterness, but above all else, a soft warmth that still burned like a candle. Jaden gulped, the flare of eternal sensations stirred by Yusei burning in his chest. Yusei smiled small and disappeared out the doors. The final click was just as loud as the first time Yusei had left Jaden to join the Blue Eye Aces. This one though, it just seemed to ring with a finality that could match no other.

Jaden twisted around and buried his face in Jesse's neck, trembling. Their friends disbursed, disgruntled from the confrontation. Jaden held on to Jesse's jacket, taking in big gulps of breath until he was ready to go to class. He wondered how long it would truly take him to recover from this day.

* * *

**Insanity Billiard**

Joey was having somewhat of a great time. Couldn't say the same for his company though.

Tristan hadn't managed a handful of words to keep up with Joey's conversation. He was in and out, eyes always straying somewhere else and grunting answers to anything. It was raking Joey's nerves to the point of ripping out his hair.

The brunet's attitude has been stinking up the air with bad vibes, souring the whole evening. It was Saturday night for Christ's sake; mind you that's because Tristan had the nerve to cancel their Friday appointment and Joey and to practically drag his ass out of his house to come out tonight.

Joey had originally planned to hit the Boom for their "date", but being the considerate man he was, he'd decided to accommodate to Tristan's mad-at-the-world demeanor and pick a quieter, more secluded part of town. Despite it being a peaceful weekend, his business was low on customers at least until ten o'clock. It was eight and so far, Joey's mental vision of a pleasant date with great food and a handsome guy wasn't exactly as appealing as it'd been an hour ago.

Joey pouted. He'd picked out one of his less-then-thuggish outfits for this. You know how much effort that took, having to navigate through that jungle of a closet? He was wearing a red, black and yellow striped Nautica polo shirt, loose-fitted white Levi jeans, and black Reeboks. Tristan hadn't even bothered to change into anything attractive. His leather black jacket was slung over the back of one of the chairs at one of the vacant tables. That left him in his white wife beater and grey jeans.

Joey requested the bottom floor of Insanity to remain vacant until he left. What a waste. With the way the evening was going, there wasn't going to be any hanky-pank tonight.

"Damn." Tristan circled the table a third time, switching his brown eyes from ball to ball, indecisive on which one to strike.

"Ya know," Joey frowned prospectively when Tristan bent over the pool table, setting up for his next shot, "you could act like you wanna be here with me." His chin was resting on the blunt end of his pool stick balanced between his black leather fingerless gloves.

"What? Shit," Tristan leaned away after missing his shot. His eyes trailed after the purple-striped twelve-ball, ricocheting off the right corner pocket and next to the rest of the balls. His mind had been lost way in left field. "My bad man, I didn't hear you."

"See? That's what I'm talking about," Joey sucked his teeth, slipping off the table stool and slinked over to Tristan's side. "What's eatin' at you anyway?" He asked when he bent over the side of the table and positioned his pool stick. He made a couple practice strokes before taking the hit, making two balls sail into a corner pocket.

"Nothin', I'm just frustrated."

"Frustrated about what?" Joey questioned casually, after sinking another ball. "School work finally getting' to ya?"

"Nah, I got that under control."

"Baseball?"

"Nah. . ."

"Your friends?"

"No. . . Not really."

"Ah, now we're getting somewhere."

Before Tristan could rebuttal that reply, he spied the only balls left on the table being a couple of his own and the black eight ball.

Joey chuckled cheekily. "Talk to me, kid. What's goin' on between you and Muto?"

Tristan twisted his lips to the side, rolling his eyes. "He's bein' a jerk that's what," he grumbled and turned around to face the other wall as he spoke, remembering the argument between him and Yugi a while back.

"Well, how's he bein' a jerk?"

Tristan opened and closed his mouth several times before beckoning Joey off to one of the empty tables. He put away his pool stick and waited until Joey got situated on the other side before he started talking.

Tristan dragged his hands over his face, looking twice his age and the worry lines and faint dark circles finally looked clearer. "Damn, I really need to get this off my chest," he murmured. "It's complicated. We had a fight because he made a promise that he wouldn't hang around a couple of people who aren't any good for 'em. They nearly got him killed twice, but he still talks to them like they're not trouble. I got pissed and confronted him about it, but he wasn't hearing any of it. I got so pissed I shoved him against the lockers."

Tristan took a deep breath, peeked up in case he was boring Joey to tears and found the blond to be intensely focused on what he was saying, not interrupting or anything. It came as a pleasant surprise and one that sent a bizarre feeling in the brunet's stomach.

"I wanted to hit him so bad, he can be so stupid sometimes. It's like he doesn't care what happens to him; as if what everyone else thinks is bullshit and only what he wants should matter. He doesn't take into consideration that if anything happens to him, the rest of us would lose our minds. I know I would. . ." the last part was a whispered confession he held dear in his heart for his best friend.

Joey rocked Tristan out of his funk by giving his shoulder a rough shake. "Kid, you can't protect him all the time. If you don't let him screw up, how is he gonna learn not to do it again?"

"Because he doesn't learn, besides, I gotta look for 'em. I've always been there for Yugi. Ever since we were little kids, I protected him from kids bigger than us and I guess." He shrugged. "Maybe that protective streak just stayed with me."

Joey chuckled humorlessly. "I know that feeling."

Tristan looked up surprised. "You do?"

"No doubt, only mines is a lil' more personal." Joey leaned away in the high stool chair, drumming his fingers on the tabletop, as his eyes seemed to become distant and blurred. Joey balled his fists together and pressed them against his mouth. "I'm no stranger to being a lil' protective," he roughly whispered. "I regret that shit every day."

Tristan started to fidget in his seat.

Joey caught the motion and waved it off. "Don't worry; I won't give ya a sob story. That's my problem anyway."

"No, no, it's not that," Tristan insisted. "Sorry, I guess I just—hell I don't know. I do wanna hear it. It'd be nice to know someone else has been in the same boat as me."

Joey closed his eyes against the horrific images of a past he'd never bury, the memory drawing to the surface as if it'd happened yesterday. It was a memory he kept stored in the farthest regions of his mind as punishment to himself. He could still hear the shrieking pleads in his ear and the loud bang of gunfire, as the cries grew louder.

It made his chest hurt, his hands fisting into balls as nausea rolled through his stomach. He could almost feel that same terrorizing anger flood his veins as he could do nothing, but helplessly close his eyes and watch his little sister crumble to the floor covering her eyes. His fingertips tingled as a reminder of how he had been helpless to stop that moment from happening, and he quickly shoved his hands into his pockets to hide the tremors.

"You don't have to talk about if it's rough on ya," Tristan's voice came as a warm compress to Joey's throbbing mind.

The blond senior member snorted arrogantly. "I ain't got a problem talkin' about my business." He took a deep breath and started to say everything. "I have a little sister, there's no telling where she is now, but she was my everything. I loved that girl like you couldn't imagine. Tsk, I still do."

Tristan smiled.

"I was real protective of her, ya know? I always held her hand when we walked across the street, when we left the house, shit she couldn't take a piss without me being there. I made sure she ate, helped with her homework, bathed her and read her bedtimes stories. She didn't mind though. Serenity loved having me around."

"Her name's Serenity? That's pretty."

"Yeah, my ma and me picked it out before she was even born. I was always knew when she was born, I'd be the rock she could lean on and be the kind of person she could always look up." Joey sighed. "She didn't have much choice. My ma left without warning one day and me and Serenity were left to fend for ourselves."

Tristan frowned. "What about your father?"

Joey snorted again. "That asshole? Forget 'bout it, he was the lowest. That fat, drug-slingin'-fuck didn't know he had kids half the time, because he was too doped up or drunk. It was cool though. I took care of my sis just fine. We didn't need anyone else. It was me and her against the world. . ."

The blonde-haired thug grew silent. His demeanor changed, sunken and further away. Tristan knew this was going to be the hardest part of the story from how white Joey's knuckles became.

"He remembered he had kids one day. He remembered this enough to start smackin' us, blamin' me and Serenity for Ma leavin'. I could take his hits, it never bothered me. It was when I found out he started hittin' my sister that pissed me off. That was why I joined the Red Eyes in the beginning, to get protection for her."

"I came home one day to find her in the corner cryin'. There was blood comin' from her eyes." He clenched his fingers harder. "That—that son of a bitch had cut her across the face with a razor. My nine-year-old was bleeding on the floor, crying and unable to see. Do you have any idea how that made me feel? I was gone all of ten minutes and he'd managed to do the ultimate sin."

Tristan reached out, but caught himself before he took Joey's hand in his. That wasn't like him at all. He continued to listen instead.

"By then, I'd already finished my initiation with the Red Eyes. Yami came as soon as I called and asked me what I wanted to do and that was after he beat the shit outta my old man." Joey snickered at the memory of his father cowering from the Red Eyes leader when he was in his youthful pride and as wild as a jackal back then. "I told him to do whatever the fuck he wanted. Yami filled that fool with holes without a second thought. He did it so easily, and you know what? I didn't bat a damn tear for that ass. Yami saved me, me and my sister. I owe him a lot."

"But," Tristan shook his head, "he's not all good. He may seem that way to you because you were nothin' but a kid. He shot Yugi. My best friend could've died."

"Yeah, but he didn't. You don't get it. Yami doesn't miss. If your friend is still walking around, that means something. Yami could split a fly between the eyes."

Tristan couldn't get on board with how Joey's eyes seemed to shine at the mention of his boss. Was Yami really that nice, just to come and save a couple of kids with no blood relation to him? Tristan couldn't believe it. He just couldn't.

"Whatever happened to your sister?"

"Hn," Joey grunted, turning away to look at the walls of Godfather pictures and elevated stain glass chandeliers, "Yami paid for her operation, but he told me if I was gonna be his right hand man, I had to get rid of any loose baggage. . . I couldn't afford any distractions, so he managed to find a relative of ours and sent Serenity there. She wasn't happy. I wasn't either, but I knew it was best. She didn't need a big brother like me. I'd be shamed if she saw what I'd become."

"You're not that bad."

"That's cause you took a chance to get to know me. Just like Muto got a chance to get to know my boss. I know you're uncomfortable with Yugi being with Yami, but give them some space. Trust me; he couldn't be in better hands. Yami's gonna take good care of him."

"I guess. . ." Tristan grimly licked his lips and sighed. "You red bloods are a pain."

"It comes with the territory. We cause trouble, make trouble, we are trouble, but we have fun doin' it." Joey winked and slipped off the chair stool. "You done mopin' now? 'Cause you promised me a good game and I haven't gotten one yet."

Joey slowly walked around the front of the pool table, coming to a stop on the other side, and simply leaned back against the opposite with his arms crossed over his chest. His cocky smirk made Tristan feel like rocks were doing somersaults in his belly. He didn't know what it was about this guy that had him feeling so . . . so weird . . . but he liked it. Being around Joey wasn't that bad.

He listened, he was funny, and beyond that rough exterior, Tristan knew there was a heart hidden in there somewhere. He wouldn't mind spending time with him more often.

Tristan hopped off the chair and ambled over, pushing his sleeves up to his shoulders. "Saddle up then, I'll give ya a game."

They played the rest of the night together with a new level of understanding between each other. They spent quiet moments, on occasion sneaking sly glances at each other. Tristan caught Joey staring at him a lot. He felt Joey close behind him, ogling his backside, practically eye humping him. Tristan would straightened and cracked a small smile, savoring the sensation of Joey ogling him. That little secret he'd keep deep, deep, deep on the inside.

* * *

The rest of the night was like that, them playing pool, eating for free from the bar and simply talking about a little of everything. The night of games ended when Joey and Tristan left Insanity and aimlessly drove around the city. It was a fun time, simply being around each other and nothing but a carefree atmosphere to set their minds at ease.

Tristan found himself never wanting the night to end. He hadn't had this much fun with anyone besides Yugi. However, even with him, Tristan never crossed a certain line. With Joey, it was a little easier. . .

"I had fun," Tristan said when they pulled up to his small suburban home on the outskirts of South Domino.

Joey put his car in park and made a show of stretching his limbs out. "Yeah, it was cool hangin' withcha'. We oughta do it again sometime."

"Yeah."

Here cued the awkward silence and the constant worry of what was supposed to happen next. Joey stared out the windshield, darting around at the neatly trimmed neighborhood and shrubbery.

"Guess I'll see you around?" said Tristan.

"Yeah."

Silence, silence. Joey scratched behind his head, feeling a little stuck in the middle of a hard place and something tougher. "Look, I kind of like—"

"I gotta head in before my mom gets worried." Tristan was out the car before Joey got a chance to finish his sentence. The brunet stopped half way of closing the passenger door and grimly shook his head. He shut it and bent down to peer inside at the steely clench of Joey's jaw. "If . . . look, I don't know how to handle any of that, um, _stuff_ . . . it's weird to me. I mean, I know Yugi is and you are . . . but," Damn he was so confused. "I don't know what I'm sayin'."

"Nah, it's cool, I get ya." Joey crunk up the car and pulled it out of park, about to speed off.

Tristan smacked the side of the car, annoyed. "Gimme a break! I just realized that I may like you a little more than I thought and—and this kind of shit isn't easy to adjust to."

Joey discreetly covered a grin behind his fist as he cleared his throat. "So what are you gettin' at? Hurry and say what you gotta say. I got places to be and things to do!"

Tristan grip the window, unsure how to approach this properly. "Can we just keep doin' what we're doin' now? Just until I can figure out what it is I'm feelin' for you?"

Joey's smirk spoke volumes of how pleased he was. "No doubt, I'll see ya soon, T."

_T_? _Hm_. "You too."

The two parted ways. Joey waited until Tristan was safely inside his home before taking off down the road. He hadn't felt this funny throb in his chest in a long, long ass time. The first time had been the first time he'd seen Serenity's first smile. This time, it was at the prospect of seeing Tristan again. He couldn't wait.

* * *

Yugi knew this was crazy, but it was a risk he was willing to take. He had to see Yami again.

Something about the way Yami left just didn't sit right with him. Atem had told Yugi repeatedly that Yami would be fine, but, well, Yugi just wanted to be sure he wasn't making a mistake. He couldn't picture that expression on someone's face as being fine. Yami's face went through a series of revelations, like he'd become distant.

His mind had went somewhere else when Yugi had touched him. The Red Eyes Spades leader had even been trembling when Kisara hugged him. Imagine that big tyrant afraid of affection. It wasn't fair for Yami to feel that way, to live as if he didn't deserve to be held, comforted and caressed by someone who cared.

It had Yugi wondering if Heba ever touched Yami that way. Would Yami allow Heba to hold him, caress him, and make him feel safe and secure? Before the whole rivalry between Yami and Atem, was Atem able to lure Yami into a state of ease and relief? Could he bring Yami to a moment in his life where he didn't have to question the motives behind a simple touch?

Yugi couldn't stand not being able to know. Yami had been through so much in his life. Hell, it was no surprise he shot Yugi that night. To entrust a little of yourself to someone only to discover them messing around with your worst enemy? Betrayal was all Yami knew.

Yugi didn't want him to feel that way; not when there was so much more to share.

There were people Yami could trust, people who were willing to make a change with him and move on. Yugi was one of those people and he was determined to reach out and pull Yami away from that unfiltered darkness. Of course, Yugi couldn't see this happening overnight. It would take time, time Yugi vowed to use a lot of if it meant getting Yami to open up and see that not everyone was out to hurt him.

. . . Far from it really.

Yugi grunted as he ducked behind an old abandoned Cadillac Deville stationed deep in the Grove by a vacant grass lot. It was in the middle of Monday night, and the place was swamped with red bloods, displaying their royal colors like Confederate Flags. Mercury and gold illuminated street posts lit up portions of the neighborhood where collections of runners and suppliers loitered outside the sling houses.

It was unusually crowded for this time of night. By now, at least a third of these guys would be at the Boom or frequenting one of the streets to sell their merchandise downtown. It didn't make sense. Yugi could've sworn on his way here that he'd spotted a handful of red bloods hanging out on the streets. The scent of Purple Haze flooded the Grove in a faint mist. Yugi pulled his red t-shirt over his nose and coughed. It was putrid, like foul sewage and old cabbages. How in the world could they smoke this trash?

Clearing his throat, Yugi emerged from behind the car and made his way down the winding sidewalk, aiming straight for the Main House. Yugi bypassed clusters of Red Eyes members, some of them delivering curious glances his way and suspicious recognition gleaming in their eyes.

Yugi continued walking and picked up the pace when he heard several footsteps matching his own.

The teen dared a quick look over his shoulder. Sure enough, he counted four tall people trailing him and the group growing with a new person every few seconds. Now, Yugi _could _make a run for it, but then he'd attract an even bigger crowd of assailants and that was the kind of pressure he didn't need. By the time he made it near the last house before reaching the main one, Yugi spotted the front balcony occupied with four individuals.

One of them he definitely recognized because of Ryou. He was Seto "Slim" Kaiba. The other two Yugi had only seen around the city from time to time; Akefia "Thief" King and Valon "Aussie" were with him along with another red blood. All of them were wearing their own kind of red. Akefia was wearing baggy red jeans and black Reeboks. Valon was wearing a red tank with grey acid wash jeans and white tennis shoes and Seto was in a dark crimson sleeveless pullover and black Levi jeans with black low top Converse.

Akefia had half a smoked blunt dangling off the corner of his mouth as he eyeballed Yugi with interest.

"Can we help you?" Valon was the first to ask after dismissing the nosey crowd with a flick of his wrist.

Yugi straightened his back. "I'm here to see Yami. Is he here?"

The trio shared a look. Seto took a pull from his smoke and released the mist in a single exhale. "He might be. What's it to you? Who are you to address the O.G. by his first name?"

"A friend."

"I doubt that."

"Hold up," Akefia waved his hand to the other two. "Ain't you that kid from Domino High? You're my little brother's friend."

"Yeah Ryou King, right?"

Akefia grinned. "That's him. Ease up Slim; I got 'em."

"Huh?" Valon pouted and folded his arms. "What makes him so special?"

"O's got special orders to leave this one alone. Why you think we ain't collecting protection from that game shop anymore?"

Yugi blinked. "You aren't?"

"Nope, you and your old man are off radar. He's done a lot of things since chillin' with you. And truth be told, he ain't as bitchy when you're around. Hell, we might get a couple of weeks off if you talk to him." Akefia thrust his thumb over his shoulder. "Go on in, but you better watch yourself. He's been in a funk since this afternoon."

"Thanks." Yugi bowed respectfully to each man in turn before walking up the cracked brick stairs and going to the door.

The house was two stories tall, constructed from brick and wood, painted yellow on top and red on the bottom. The door hung wide open. There were one or two lights on in the whole house. It was almost completely dark, but the tint of smoke was unmistakable. There was a hall leading straight down and a stairwell to the left. Before reaching that, there was a step-down den room to the right filled with red bloods and women and drugs and alcohol.

The interior was classy, something straight from the Southern Living magazines.

Everywhere there were shades of cream and crimson. The carpet was plush cream with a single stain or mark on the surface. There were two three-seat couches pushed against the red walls, all of them made of red leather, there was a love seat tucked in the corner and three short metal pole lamps with white shades, adding a certain 'je ne sais quoi' to the color theme. Two round wooden low tables were in the center of the room, all littered with weed, wrappings and Ziplocs. Five men and three women were spread out in the den, women either smoking or straddling the laps of some of the men too high to remember who they were.

Yugi wrinkled his nose at the scene and continued toward the stairs. He didn't know why he chose this way to go. It was instincts maybe telling him that Yami would be up there. Yugi's footsteps creaked noisily as he took them two at a time and paused at the top.

The hall went down two ways, splitting to a set of three rooms and another cut off from the rest from behind. It was much quieter up here and colder; very cold. Yugi rubbed up and down his arms as goosebumps pebbled on his flesh.

"Yami," he called softly and listened.

There wasn't an answer. Yugi swallowed back the uneasy feeling in his stomach and carefully crept down the first hall. He gently knocked on the first, then the second and then the third, each of them empty. Yugi pulled away from the third bedroom and journeyed on to the second hall with the lone door.

Yugi stopped outside, hand hovering over the bronze doorknob. He stared up at the wooden door and the damage it's sustained; chipping paint, cracked surface and rust on its hinges. Yugi licked his lips. Why was he hesitating? He couldn't understand this overwhelming feeling of dread erupting in his chest.

It was so strange. Yugi thinned his lips and placed his hand on the doorknob. He softly rapped his knuckles on the door and opened it. At first, he didn't see anything. The room was just as dark as the rest of the house. Had it not been for the stream of moonlight forcing its way through the thick curtains, Yugi would've overlooked the shadowy silhouette laying on the king sized bed.

"Yami?" Yugi gulped and went in the rest of the way, closing the door. "Yami, it's me."

The Red Eyes leader didn't budge. Yugi moved in closer, squinting in what little light he had. He took baby steps, unable to determine if the man was sleeping or if he were just lost in his own world. Yugi clutched at his upper arms and came to a halt where he could see Yami's head laid on the pillow.

"Yami," Yugi whispered. "I'm here. I came to see you."

The body didn't move.

Yugi carefully sunk on the edge of the bed, simply staring, studying and taking in Yami's long, lean outline. His long arm was draped across his eyes. Yugi scooted closer a little more. Yami didn't smell like the rest of them. It was woodsy and minty with a musky under layer like had Yugi subconsciously drawing near the smell. Was this the closest he'd ever gotten to Yami without the man being on guard? There was no mistaking the sharp lines and curves on his face. Just look at him; a handsome rogue from head to toe. Yami was a good-looking man, very, very good looking. Just looking at him was like watching a dream unfold before your eyes.

He had no shirt on. Yami was bare from the waist up, tattoos of his gang life ripping across hills and valleys of aged, cut muscles. There were scars too, lots of them, speckled all over his upper torso. All of them had a story; knife gashes, long cuts, and dents on his sides from possible gunshots, discoloring his sand-colored skin. There was a particular scar in the dead center, like a crater, wrinkled and hideous.

Yugi inhaled sharply at the pain Yami must've suffered after receiving it. Yugi wondered . . . was this one of those Yami faced as a helpless little boy? The harsh wound seemed to make itself stand out from the rest as if to say_, I will always dominate this man's memories and remind him of the pain I caused that faithful day. _Yugi reached out his hand and one by one, let his fingers dipped into the round blemish.

It was dry to the touch and rough.

"Does it disgust you?"

Yugi jerked his hand back as if he were burned. Yami's sudden words loudly broke the silence, though he barely spoke above a whisper.

"I'm sorry," Yugi said after collecting his wits, clutching his hand in his lap. "I thought you were sleeping."

A soft chuckle, "So that gives you the right to molest me?"

Yugi was grateful for the dark. It hid his blush and the hidden heat gleaming in his violet gaze.

Yami's thigh shifted. Yugi felt it pressing into his hip, but didn't move. "What are you doing here?" he questioned.

"I came to see you."

"I gathered that much." Yami lowered his arm to level an authoritative eye on Yugi's profile. "Why did you come to see me?"

Yugi gulped. Now that he was actually here, it seemed somewhat silly to have come all of this. His reason seemed pitiful. "I was worried about you."

"Worried about me, were you?" an amused snort. "You're a strange ass kid. Here, you barely know me from a sack of rocks, I even shot you, and here you still got enough room in your heart to care what's goin' on with me."

Yugi's blush flared even more. "You're not a person." Violet eyes peered shyly at the wooden floors. "I know everyone portrays you as this tough, cold hearted person, but I know better. I got a chance to know a little about you. You're not as cruel as everyone says." Yugi snuck a quick look up.

Yami was look directly at him with an intense frown.

Yugi turned away quickly. "Atem doesn't seem to think so either. He's willing to let bygones be bygones. I-I wouldn't mind seeing that happen for you. . . you deserve to have someone show you what it's like to have a friend or. . . something . . . you don't have in fear anymore."

Yami's growl was airy and sharp. "I'm not afraid of anything."

"Yes you are, you don't have to lie to me."

"How are you gonna tell me—"

"That's something else I want for you too; to be able to confide in someone without worrying about pay back." Yugi boldly lifted his head and met Yami's gaze in the dark, noting inside how the moon seemed to create this haunting halo over the older man's figure. "You don't have to be afraid."

"Yugi, don't say that again," Yami sternly ordered.

Yugi pulled his lips between his teeth. Was he breaking through? Could that be why he didn't want Yugi to continue? He couldn't stop yet. It was a challenge and like so many in the past, Yugi wouldn't back down from it.

"I'm not afraid of a damn thing."

"I want to be there, let me care for you. Like Atem does. I-I know it sounds strange and sudden, but I can be there. I can give you support and— I can help you when you feel down. I just—I just want to be someone you can depend on."

Yugi's confession stunned himself as well as Yami. That . . . that hadn't exactly come out how it was planned in his brain.

Yami stared, his heart and mind and stomach doing solid flip-flops. He was speechless. Yugi wanted to care for him. But why? He'd never given off the vibe that he wanted to care for him, did you? No, no of course not. Yami knew he wasn't a charity case. He was coldhearted killer, always have been, always will be. What made this brat think he could do what others have failed to do before him? As Yami watched Yugi waiting and looking at him, he grounded his teeth together. He couldn't be telling the truth. It was a lie. He wanted something.

"Liar," Yami growled through clenched teeth. "What do you really want?"

Yugi frowned, clearly confused at the change of attitude. "Huh?"

Yami gulped down the bile surfacing in his throat. His breathing grew unsteady, becoming harsher. He lashed out fast before Yugi had a chance to react. Yami's fingers coiled around Yugi's wrist and yanked him hard.

"You're lying to me!"

"Yami? Yami, what's wrong?"

"No, I won't let you!"

Yugi was horrified when the next thing he knew, he was flat on the bed and Yami had his wrists locked over his head, his deadly grip refusing any circulation to his hands. A foreign feeling flooded Yugi's veins, mixed with strange, _arousing_ sensations and gut wrenching fear. Staring up at Yami, the moonlight haloing around him, like the glare of a demon's power, Yugi didn't know what to think. He just knew that he had to get free.

"No!" Yami snarled inches from Yugi's face. "You won't hurt me, I won't let you!"

"I don't want to hurt you, Yami!" Yugi pulled desperately at his wrists. "But you're hurting me, let go!"

"What do you want?"

"I don't want anything from you except a chance!"

"Fuckin' liar! You do want something, they always do! All of you want something I can't give!"

Yami left one hand handcuffed around Yugi's wrists, used the other to take a fistful of his hair, and pressed his skull into the mattress.

"Yami, I don't want to hurt you, I swear!" Yugi struggled fruitlessly under the pressuring weight on his hips. "Get off of me!"

Yami pulled back and met Yugi's straining gaze, subtle jolts of heat pooling in his groin. This close, Yami could feel and taste the scent of mint and fruit juice on Yugi's breath. Their lips were millimeters apart. And those eyes, those damningly expressive, bright violet eyes were tormenting Yami's mind with waves of violent feelings. Yugi didn't look remotely like he was pitying Yami—it was what he would've hated more than anything. It seemed more like he was waiting, nervously waiting for an outstretched hand.

"I want to be there, Yami," Yugi murmured, carefully squirming his hands free. He lifted his hand out, slow so that Yami could see he meant no harm, ran his calloused fingers under Yami's jawline, and cupped his cheek. "Can I be there?"

Yami stilled stiff as a statue as Yugi's fingers caressed the skin on Yami's face. Why couldn't he breathe? Why was everything slipping out of his grasp, out of his control? Yugi knew about Yami's past, so he wasn't fool. But didn't he know what those words meant, the full significance behind them?

Yami closed his eyes and tightened his jaw helplessly. He turned his face into the searching palm and let his lips touch and taste the salty texture. Yugi felt his chest constricting, his belly going hot and going cold at the same time. Yugi's touch, it burned, charring Yami's skin. He lifted his hand and crushed the bones in Yugi's hand, leeching the warmth they expelled.

Yami rubbed his cheek into the touch. He sniffed it, inhaled and . . . felt himself falling over the edge.

Would he fall over it? Was that fall worth it?

"Can I be there?" Yugi whispered again.

Yami's eyes darkened. There wasn't a shred of color left. His head dipped lower. There was no space left. Yami didn't know what he was doing. He wasn't aware of the way his entire body was trembling. He was inwardly panicking, but still he continued leaning down, eyes half-mast.

Yugi swallowed. Yami stopped with his mouth barely brushing Yugi's.

"You make me regret this, I'll fucking kill you."

Yugi felt the words against his mouth, was vaguely registering everything said before Yami fully pressed his mouth against his. The tremors seemed to travel into Yugi's body because now, he was the one quivering like he was naked in the cold. It was beyond comprehension. . . Yugi couldn't fully grasp what was going on until he felt Yami maneuver his head to the side and worked his mouth in a way that made Yugi melt into the mattress.

The teen's eyes fluttered close and he slowly lifted his arms to cozily pull Yami against him.

They were both falling.

They were both trembling.

Yugi's mind was going a thousand miles per hour, but there was one singular thought in his mind that rung like church bells.

_Yami was kissing him . . . Yami was kissing him. . . Yami . . . was . . . kissing him. . . _

* * *

**TBC: About time right?**


	19. In Motion

**Author's Rant:** Enjoy the next chapter everyone. Thanks for your participation!

_~Side Notes:~ Corrections made. Thank you so much Ocena Strex babes. You're a sweetheart._

* * *

**In Motion**

* * *

_What a rush. _

Sensations were abruptly shooting throughout Yugi's body in uncontrollable tingles. There was no telling what was up or where was down, but he knew there was no chance of stopping. Hell, he didn't want to. This unexpected moment was all he could think about in his muddled mind. A few times, Yami's kisses ceased so he could lift up a small smidge and stare into Yugi's eyes, gaze intense with unleashed emotions. They were positively raw with passionate want and a growing desire to find that trust he so longed for.

"Don't make me regret this," Yami murmured against Yugi's mouth. The teen tasted and felt the words vibrate on his lips.

Yugi's eyes were hooded in a haze of violet lust. He went quiet as he too searched for the questioning signs of distrust in Yami's eyes. The apprehension was still evident. Yugi pressed his lips up in a soft kiss.

"I won't, Yami." He kissed him again and again, each one growing heatedly needy. "Put your trust in me. I want this. I want you."

The sincerity of his words was too hard to ignore. Feeling as if the weight of the world had finally disappeared from his shoulders, Yami wrapped his arms around Yugi's waist and held him close. Looking down at this young man whose face held so many similarities to a long lost love; it was easy to see the differences now. Those softer round eyes wanted to be there for him. That heart-shaped face possessed an isolated expression solely for Yami and there was this harmonized beating in Yugi's chest that Yami could feel threatening to break through his rib cage.

One hand traveled up Yugi's sides, slipping beneath his shirt. Yami felt hot scorching skin, as if stepping from beneath the sun and the imprint of ribs and tight muscles. Yugi's eyes rolled shut, squirming, his breathing hitched. The older man's hands were rough and dry as brillo pads. It felt so good, so alien against his body. Yami's hands gripped his sides as his thumbs massaged in circular motions wherever he seemed to find a bulk of muscle.

When Yugi opened his eyes again, his breath caught in his chest.

Yami's gaze was hauntingly ominous. The halo of moonshine glissading through the curtains couldn't have made him look more magnificent. There was an aphrodisiac craving that darkened his eyes to a deep vermillion. The scene stole Yugi's breath away.

"Yugi," Yami said his name as if the syllables alone were made of something addictive. He captured the young teen's lips once more, this time adding more sweet pressure. His hand squeezed over Yugi's sides.

"Mmm Mmm." Yugi jounced his face up, opening his mouth and traced Yami's bottom lip. His hot, wet tongue softly and eagerly followed the seam of Yami's lips, silently seeking a taste. Yami's firm tongue probed and licked with a slowness before feathering across the thicker pair and intruding in Yugi's mouth with a forceful thrust. The sudden intrusion sent shock waves through Yugi's body like he'd never experienced.

He couldn't get close enough. His blood was boiling at a feverish pitch. Their tongues swam and tangled in a dance of raw desires and heightened pleasure. It was aggressive and fast. Yugi moaned in Yami's mouth when he felt those calloused fingers squeeze beneath the mattress and his back to trace the line of Yugi's spine.

Yami relished in Yugi's sensitivity, swallowing every jolted moan he could steal from the teen's body. Yami pulled him close, pressing Yugi's clothed chest to his. His lean arms settled heavily on Yami's shoulders and embraced him. Their tongues intertwined and mingled, assertively combative. Yami groaned like an animal. His pulse was reaching racecar speeds. His skin was on fire and the everlasting kiss was drugging him with a high that none of his drugs could ever achieve.

Then Yami's hand lift from Yugi's lower back to come around and massage over the swell of the teen's pectorals. They were plump, firm and ripe with youth and stamina. His abdomen was tight and cut from a lifetime of baseball.

Yugi gasped. Yami plunged his tongue in deeper, refusing to let up. The taste was too wild, too potent and filled with a newness he couldn't savor enough of.

Yugi desperately wanted more. His mouth fell away littering tentative licks and kisses along Yami's jawline, following the curving that lead to the dip of his collarbone. Yami's skin had a distinct salty tint that exploded on Yugi's tongue like dynamite. It was so delicious. Sections of muscles coiled under Yugi's hands whenever he pressed his lips on a new span of flesh.

It was when he found a small hollow dip in Yami's neck that Yugi learned that there was something that could virtually cripple the Red Eyes leader. A long, drawling moan escaped his lips when Yugi started lightly laying kisses there, soft as an ocean breeze and hot as boiled metal pressed to his flesh.

"Shit," Yami's rumbling voice grunted. It has been such a long time since he caved in to pleasure. With Yugi, it was brand new, like taking the first sip of water after days of thirst.

Yugi wasn't shy either. He had his hands mapping over the ridges of Yami's abdomen, feeling across the rise and falling slopes of his board shoulders and teased around the seam of Yami's pants. His fingers were fumbling everywhere, indecisive of what felt better from the rest.

It was hard to decide with a body like Yami's. It all felt wonderful. Yugi's hands coasted over hills of scarred skin and strong curves. Yugi tore his lips away and stared between their bodies, where a view of Yami's shadowy figure was on full display. Everything on him was gloriously toned, cut in all the right places, lean and long. Yami's body heat was suffocating.

Yugi's nostrils flared into a pair of circles when Yami lowered himself down and aligned their bodies together. "Yami. . ." He felt so good against him like this; look at him, like a vision. How could he verbally tell this man what a sight he was when his tongue was rooted to the top of his mouth? All Yugi could do was blink and stare.

Yami dipped his head inward, nosed under Yugi's jaw, brushing open mouth kisses there as deep hums of satisfaction racing over Yugi's skin like pin-needles. He helplessly turned his head to the side, wanting to feel more.

"Keep touchin' me," Yami slurred against Yugi's neck. "I like that."

Warmth painted over the bridge of Yugi's nose and his cheeks. He chuckled and started to carefully skate his hands all over Yami's upper back muscles. Yugi's eyes half-lidded and became lost in admiring pleasure. He palmed and squeezed, touched and caressed, sometimes brushing his lips on the ball of Yami's shoulder—another sensitive part of the gang leader Yugi would remember to keep tucked away for safekeeping.

"Yeah, just like that," Yami whispered directly in Yugi's ear. "Keep touching me." Yami's wet kisses tickled over Yugi's neck skin, sucking and nipping. He held the young man's waist between his two hands and laid his weight down.

In slow, even motions, Yami began to rotate his hips, grounding down. Yugi's legs spread, welcoming Yami's narrow hips between his thighs. The older man settled there as if it were his second home.

He kept the rolling motion going; maneuvering in a way that revealed how thick and ready he was to take it to the next level. The rough grind coaxed a fiery friction that buzzed a wild thrill in Yugi. His knees straightened and bent to squeezed around Yami's hips.

They turned to each other and met for another kiss, breathing becoming harsh and furiously frantic. Yugi met the sensual grind with vigor, bucking and moving. His head bobbed from side to side, coordinated with Yami's swaying tongue. The rotations became a sudden pelvis thrust. Yami pulled away and peered darkly in Yugi's eyes as his hips rose and fell, faster and faster.

"Shit, shit, shit," Yugi chanted through clenched teeth. It was torturous. He'd gone without any kind of sex for so long that little to nothing was able to make him hot. His legs rose of their own accord and fastened higher around Yami's waist to keep him locked on that precise spot—the spot where the bulk of their erections were threatening to burst from the seam of their pants.

The mattress creaked under the pressure, the headboard rocked against the wall, and jingles of items on the nightstands shook from the bed's quaking sides. Then without warning, Yugi felt his pants tugged down with a savage intent and long fingers trailed over the bulging veins in his dick.

"Ga-od, uh!" Yugi exploded before Yami had a chance to flick his wrist. It came so fast. The orgasm snuck up from nowhere, paralyzing Yugi to his bones. Cum washed over Yami's hand, ribbons of the white stickiness sputtering free. Yugi jerked forward to bury his unmanly shriek in Yami's shoulder, fingers grabbing the older man's biceps like handcuffs.

His chest rose and fell, his mind gradually clearing. Embarrassment began to make itself at home in his mind. He couldn't believe he'd just did that. Like some immature, inexperienced virgin. Cumming with just a little touch? That'd never happened before.

Yugi sighed after the last bit of cum dribbled away. Taking a deep breath to collect his bearings, Yugi kept a firm grasp on Yami's arms, rubbing his nose across his shoulder.

"Sorry, I-I'm sorry, so sorry," he whispered. How would Yami deal with this? Would he see Yugi as a waste of time now?

Instead of ridicule, Yugi was very surprised when Yami chuckled sexily and rubbed up and down the middle his back.

"Guess it's been a while for you too."

Yugi's blushing face stayed hidden. He grunted an incoherent response.

Yami chuckled again as silence ruled over. Seconds, moments and long minutes passed with them simply lying there. In the middle of the dark, Yami's mouth started trailing moist kisses on Yugi's neck. They weren't hurrying or demanding; merely faint brushes of his lips that echoed in the extremely quiet room.

Yugi rolled his shoulder where the caresses peppered higher. Yami's hand found purchase on the bone jutted from the teen's hip as he curled into Yugi again and pressed his round mouth in Yugi's ear. His breathing relaxed, his low purring quivered Yugi's body and the press of his hefty erection idling on Yugi's thigh.

Speaking of which. . . Yami was kissing Yugi's ears and stroking his skin. Yugi lapped up the attention timidly but he couldn't ignore what was happening downstairs.

"Yami, you haven't. . ." he trailed off.

"Ignore it," Yami mumbled lowly. "I'll take care of it when you leave."

"Why not now?" Yugi suddenly leered with a lopsided grin. "Can I watch?"

Yami arched an eyebrow at that.

Yugi snickered. "Kidding, I'm kidding. Really, you don't want me to take care of that for you?"

"And how do you propose you'll do that?"

"I could, um," Yugi looked at his flexing fingers and frowned like they'd just started glaring at him. "Ya know, like you did me."

Yami pushed his face in Yugi's hair, inhaled through his nose and sighed out the next few words that had Yugi's face on fire. "I'm not gonna be able to get off with your hand. We're either gonna fuck or I take a cold shower.

"We. . . we could—"

"No, we couldn't. You aren't ready, otherwise I would've had my dick so far up your ass, you'd think I was in your stomach."

_How in the hell could he say something like that so casually? _Yugi swallowed, nimbly playing with the loose threads on the covers. The cum was starting to dry inside his legs. The feeling wasn't too pleasing.

"What happens now?"

"You go home," said Yami. "We need some space to think about what we wanna do."

Yugi lifted his head to look Yami in the eyes. "I know what I want to do."

"You think you know, but you could've gotten caught up in the heat of the moment—"

"Yami," Yugi stressed irritated. He leaned in, noses brushing. "I know what I want. Please stop treating me like I'm out to get you when all I wanna do is be there. You've—there's just something about you I wanna protect. You don't have to keep fighting alone anymore." He thought about his next move, and carefully placed his hands on the sides of Yami's face. The gang leader froze, eyes wide. His hands twitched at his sides, but he didn't make a move to get Yugi's hands from his face. Yugi smiled and nuzzled their foreheads together. "Oh Yami."

The gang leader collected himself a brief moment, taking in large gulps of air through his nostrils. He looped his arm around Yugi's neck and tugged him close.

"I'm tryin'."

"I know, I know," Yugi said. "I'm happy you're willing to. . . Yami?"

"Hm?"

Yugi paused for a moment for whispering, "Atem wants to try too."

Yami cut his eyes to the side.

Yugi pressed their noses together again. "He doesn't want to hurt you."

"Years of bitter hatred and bloodshed can't be dissolved in a few days."

"I don't expect it to, but it can never be fixed unless someone takes the first step."

"He's a Blue Eyes, I'm a Red Eyes. The two don't mix."

"They did once. . ."

". . ."

"The Purple Fiends right?"

Yami sharply inhaled. "He told you," he concluded after focusing his eyes on Yugi's face.

"I'm glad he did." Yugi sighed and kissed Yami between the eyes. "I won't pressure you, but I don't want you to ignore the possibilities either."

"Yugi—"

"Yami," Yugi knew it was dangerous to force this issue any longer. "Just think about it, mmkay?"

Yami groaned, shaking his head as a rough blow bubbled his lips. Looking at Yugi, looking at the way he just seemed so desperate for his answer. _Damn those drowning eyes of his._ "I must be outta my damn mind." Yami dragged a hand over his face.

". . . he cares about you too Yami. I can't see any other reason he'd want to rekindle what you two shared."

"I lost him once and your brother. . . I can't deal with that again." Yami's voice croaked against his will. "It'll hurt too much."

"I'm not going anywhere."

Yugi leaned forward and dropped soft kisses along the tip of Yami's chin, caressed over his cheeks and his eyes. Yami shuddered like a small child caught in the cold, laying his head on Yugi's shoulder. He turned his head, using his mouth to search for the thin throbbing pulse. He couldn't believe how eager he was for this kid's touch now. It wasn't long before when he would've killed anyone who looked at him the wrong way.

Yami carded his fingers through Yugi's hair, tugging pieces between his index and thumb. It was a little coarse around his scalp, but nice and fine on the edges. Yugi was the perfect example of someone who was going to ruin him.

_Damn. _

"I should go," Yugi voiced. Prying himself free from the gentle embrace, he finally turned up to see Yami's sharp profile; his handsome, perfect lines. Yugi smiled to himself. "My grandpa'll be worried if I come home too late." Yugi suddenly flinched when he moved away and clutched at his arm. "Ow, shit."

Yami frowned and inspected where Yugi's hands rushed to constrict over his arm. His red eyes widened upon his fingers grazing over something slick and wet. Pulling back, he slathered his fingertips together. The thick texture was unmistakable. His lips grimly tightened.

"How bad is it?"

Yugi shook his head. "It's fine. It only hurts when I move it too much."

"Hm," Yami made a thinking sound in his mouth, quietly examining what little of the injury he could make out in the moonlight. It was a fading scar on his skin that he'd always live with. It was the size of a half-dollar, the skin surrounding the dent like a crinkled dimple.

Grinning to himself, Yugi bumped his temple against Yami's cheek. "What, you feel bad? Don't tell me you're getting soft."

Yugi expected some form of retaliation, but all he got was a tender sweep of a palm over his wound, rising until it came to rest under Yugi's chin. Yugi felt the older man's chest swell on a big sigh.

"I couldn't kill you that day . . . either you or Atem . . ."

He made it sound like a weakness.

Was it really so hard?

Yugi scooted away. The sudden space coated him like a wind chill. He sat on the edge of the bed, thumbing over the circling burn in his arm. It would go away in time. Why wouldn't Yami's wounds heal this easily?

After a prevailing silence, Yugi climbed to his feet and waited at the doorway for Yami to put on a wife beater and follow behind. He stayed close to Yugi the entire way downstairs, nodding off to his men to stand down when Yugi walked through. The front porch was infested with red bloods. Some were lingering around the railing, bunched in twos and threes around the front. Akefia, Seto, and Valon were huddled in a corner, mumbling amongst themselves when Yami and Yugi appeared in the doorway.

Akefia had the shittiest grin on his face, but wisely kept his comments to himself. He did, however, hold out an empty palm and smacked it in the center. Seto rolled his eyes, retrieved a wad of cash from his pocket and leafed off several bills before handing them over.

Yugi's lips thinned as he made eye contact with a few of the gang members.

"I'll see you later," he heard Yami say close to his ear, large hand on the small of his back.

Yugi smiled over his shoulder. "Alright, I'll see you too." With that said, Yugi descended the short flight of stairs. He paused at the third and glanced over his shoulder.

Yami raised his head to meet Yugi's gaze. Anyone witnessing the exchange would recognize the hidden meanings. Yugi tiled his head eyes, peeling with a deep yearning desire to know what the man was thinking. He was holding himself just fine until Yami's gaze seemed to liquefy into a molten lava red. The eyes slid smoothly from Yugi's face, down his neck and over the rest of his down to his shoes and back up again to lock eyes with him. That look lasted for several seconds, but it was five lifetimes in Yugi's brain. Yami had virtually undressed him with his eyes right in front of his crew without thinking twice about it. That gaze said he appreciated what he saw and had hopes of tasting it again.

Yugi smiled shyly and continued making his way down the stairs. "See ya." The two parted ways, Yami's hand lingering as long as it could last before distance tore them apart. Yami shoved his hands in his pockets to keep from reaching out for that missing warmth.

Yami's eyes hadn't left Yugi's figure until he lost sight of him down the road. The boy was safely out of danger, and that left Yami's mind full of brand new thoughts. His mind was reeling in every direction imaginable; where would he go from here, how would he start this change and when it would be best to begin this transition.

A loud voice interrupted his train of thought.

"Aww ain't that about the sweetest thing?"

A chorus of laughs responded to Akefia's taunt. Yami cocked his eyebrow at the lot of them and they either shut their mouths or scooted a safe distance away. Akefia didn't give a damn. He was howling with laughter, bent over in a white picnic chair, holding his stomach.

"You saw that shit? Please tell me you saw that. Yo, O.G. fucked that boy with his eyes. I swear ta' God, man!" Akefia boomed excitedly. "Hey O', ya sharin' that or what?"

Yami clucked his tongue, annoyed and then not so much. What could he expect from his dumb ass crew?

"Shut the fuck up," he grumbled and climbed the stairs back inside, hearing the amusement build in his wake.

* * *

"Sir, there's someone coming outta the Grove."

"One of ours or a red blood?"

"Neither."

_Really, isn't that interesting_. The Supreme paused counting a handful of money, his right eyebrow visibly rising over his dark Prada shades. "You sure?"

"Yes sir," his driver confirmed.

The Supreme sat up from the leather interior seats inside his jet black 2012 Challenger with onyx spider rims and a customer designed grill. He was dressed in a grey blazer, white linen shirt with tame green flowers and khaki pants. Taking the sunglasses from his face, Ushio Sr. checked out the side of his backseat window. Sure enough, he caught sight of a young man he'd recognize from ten miles away.

Yugi Muto, younger brother of Heba J. Muto. Word was this kid was on the fast track to the major leagues. So what was he doing browsing around the Grove?

Ushio leaned back and crossed his legs at the ankles. A grin started peeling his lips apart as he resumed counting his money.

"Shall I follow him sir?"

He shook his head and brushed a lock of pepper grey hair from his forehead. "Nah, we'll watch him from here. I don't want to get carried away just yet."

The drive silently complied and shut down the car when he'd been about to take off. The whole point of this stakeout was to find a possible weakness, a dent of sorts in Yami's armor. The Supreme has been watching this guy for days, getting word from the few men who'd worked their way into the Grove and keep surveillance on all the happenings.

What an unexpected surprise this was to see the city's baseball prodigy coming out of the core center of Yami's fortress. Now, if he were a betting man, the Supreme would theorize that this kind just might have some kind of connection with the Red Eyes leader. That Heba kid had a few years back. It can't be a coincidence that he'd see the kid's younger brother affiliating with this lot too. No one walked inside of any red blood territory without openly displaying the tattoos and colors. This kid wasn't sporting either. That red t-shirt was a poor substitute and he didn't have the demeanor of a street thug.

The Supreme reached across the seats to turn up the radio so _Lyrical Homicide by The Game & Lil Wayne_ pulsed from his back speakers. See, now this he could get on board with. It was going to be one of those nights where this good feeling wouldn't go away for a long ass time. And he had a real good feeling about this Yugi kid.

_Lyrical Homicide Kill Em N Watch Em Die  
Cuz U Aint Neva Seen A Motherfuckin Killa Motherfucka Like A Motherfuckin N**** Named Game Motherfucka_

"Shit, yeah." The Supreme retrieved a cigar from the back compartment and lit it, lazily pulling the smoke into his mouth, swirling the narcotic fog on his tongue before blowing a straight stream in the car. Yugi Muto turned around to gaze back into the Grove before disappearing down the sidewalk alone. If Yami was interested in the kid, the Supreme could see why. He was tight in all the right places, had a face that looked ready to scrunch up in pleasure and those eyes of his were made for seducing.

Oh, the Supreme hoped Yugi had some kind of connection to that motherfucker.

An eye for an eye after all. This was something he needed to ask that French pussy Zigfried about. If Ushio was going to get anything out of this, even a little bit of selfish gain besides money, he would definitely look into it.

Ushio Sr. looked at Yugi's disappearing figure and relaxed. With this new kind of motivation, it was high time Ushio paid a little visit to Frenchie.

Zigfried wasn't going to be too pleased about the sudden intrusion. Ushio couldn't help that now could he? He needed to _up_ this little scheme of theirs some more.

* * *

Atem sighed and put away the paperwork on the table, then went to answer the ringing cell phone on the kitchen counter. It was about damn time. He'd been waiting on this call for a couple of days. He didn't bother checking the caller ID. He didn't need to. The person calling knew they were supposed to report in by seven o'clock tonight.

"Yeah," Atem answered roughly. "You better have some results for me this time. I'm not in the mood for bullshit." He stated and walked down the hall to wake up Kisara. Baby girl wasn't going to go to school for the rest of the week. With the shit about to go down, Atem had arranged for her to stay with Isis and Malik until Atem was ready for her to come home. She's been napping since earlier this afternoon and would spend the better part of the night talking everyone to death.

Atem needed her up so he could herd her off to the bathroom and clean up.

The informant sniffled on the other end. He must've just finished snorting a whole tube. Atem rolled his eyes in disgust, sneering.

"_Word on da' street is, there's a few red bloods stalkin' around Meadows and Dawson Ave," _the informant said between coughs.

Atem frowned at the information. "So, that's right on the edge of their line before hitting ours. Don't call me with shit I already know. Gimme something better than that!" Damn he hated working with fucking fiends. All they were knew best was how to snort up the merchandise. Atem had little options besides using them as canaries. They had ears on the pavement better than he did and could easily pinpoint any enemies lurking around in his territory.

Since Atem got the call from Pegasus, the hairs on Atem's body have stood up like needles. Whatever affections he had with Yami had nothing to do with the rest of his posse. The assholes were still red bloods from beginning to end. That made them public enemy Numero Uno.

Atem knocked on Kisara's door softly before stepping in. Kisara's eyes were already wide open and her head turned to the door when Atem stepped in. The father smiled and mouthed for her to get ready for a bath. Kisara groaned under her breath, but did as asked and started tugging off her clothes.

"Hello?" Atem suddenly snapped. "You gonna answer me today or what? Gimme something to work with, Fred! I don't have time for watered down info. I could've got that shit myself!"

"_Calm down, soldja'. If you coulda got da' shit ya'self, ya wouldn't have called." _

"Fred," Atem sneered warningly.

"_A'ight, a'ight shit. Check it, you know some of your cronies been hangin' around some of 'em red bloods, yeah?"_

Atem squeezed over the space between his eyes. "Fred, Fred, Fred, I know that shit already! I need names!"

"Daddy, I can go to the bathroom now?" Kisara said, waving her hands in the air to get her father's attention.

"Huh, yeah, baby girl go ahead. I'll be in there in a minute." Atem granted her a short smile as he ushered her out of the bedroom with one hand and held his cell with the other. "Names, Fred. Names."

"_I'm thinkin' boss, but I can't tell ya nothin' when I don't know any of 'em. All of 'em new faces." _

"The fuck—" Atem pulled the phone back and gave it a nasty look before putting it back to his ear. "How the hell you don't know the fuckin' names? I haven't recruit anybody in weeks! And the new folks know better than to mess with the corners!"

"_Obviously they don't know how da' game is played if they out here fuckin' with red bloods. The shit's nuts, boss. I've seen a bunch of 'em pile in a Cadillac and roll off—"_

Fred was preaching to the damn choir. Atem knew all of this shit already. Pegasus filled him in on all the details on what Duke witnessed near one of the vendor points. But how did Pegasus expect him to govern his people Atem couldn't get an ID on any of the suspects? The millionaire was laying on the pressure about looping a noose around both his and Yami's neck if the order wasn't restored.

"_Boss?"_

"Yeah," Atem snapped.

"_Ya need ta' chill. All that stress ain't gonna get yer' answers any faster—"_

"I'm stressed out because you can't seem to remember the name of the folks who sold you all that Dust. That's sixteen fuckin' ounces of Coke missin'. Yami's crew deals the green. My jokers handle the snow. So how the hell can you not remember who it was that gave you both?"

"Things jus' happen, boss. Wha'cha expect? All these faces runnin' round da' streets and shit—"

"You ain't listenin' to me Fred. All this sightseeing stuff you telling me, don't mean jack shit. You expect me to run the streets looking for every red and blue blood out there? Damn near everybody riding a Cadillac. Be more specific! I want faces. I want names." Atem swung Kisara up in his arms and went inside the bathroom where the warm water was already ran. He dipped his fingers inside the water to test the temperature and after deeming it safe, sat her inside. He poured a hefty amount of Johnson Johnson baby wash in his palm, lathered it in a thick foam and gently started massaging it in Kisara's hair.

"_I can't remember how many there were. I saw them hanging on the corner and they slipped through the walls before dippin' off in that Cadillac—"_

"We cleared that part up, fool! What color, year, design, something!"

"_Umm, it looked like a 99' Coupe Deville. Can't say fa' sure what color it was though. Shit was ashy, like grey or white or light black." _

Kisara moaned irritably when some soap got in her eyes. Atem reached for a towel and dabbed at her eyes. "Sit still baby girl," he ordered sternly. "Start washing all your private places. Do it twice—Fred, why the hell you stopped talkin'?"

"_Cause I ain't got shit else ta' tell ya boss. The hell ya expect me ta' do? Shit the answers outta my ass?" _

"I don't give a fuck how you do it, but get me what I wanna know in the next hour. If Pegasus calls me with that dumb shit again, I'm taking my frustrations out on you, your son and grandmother with my Desert Eagle. One. Hour." Atem smashed his thumb against the END CALL button and tucked his phone in this back pocket, beyond pissed off. He hated when he couldn't get what he wanted done right then and there. Any kind of procrastination held up profit, information and productivity. Fred's stupid ass couldn't even get him some names. How fucking hard was it to look at a face, remember the name and report back?

"You mad Daddy?"

The knots in Atem's stomach untwisted at the concern in his daughter's voice. "A little bit," he murmured, fingertips rotating on her scalp. "You know how I am when folks don't handle their jobs properly."

"Grandpa says you're supposed to get rid of the weak links in a chain or it'll break and mess up the whole line."

Atem smiled amused. "Something like that." He worked in another handful of shampoo, kneading her hairs together and parting separate folds of hair with his fingers.

"Daddy?"

"Hm?"

Kisara looked over her shoulder. "If you're sad, I think you should go see Yugi and Mr. Sad Eyes. You look happy when you're around them."

"Is that right?"

"Yep, I know you, Daddy. You act all silly and smile a lot and you don't look like a mean ole' Grinch."

Atem lightly popped her on the back of her head. "I resent that, brat. Your daddy's too fine to look like a Grinch." His fingers slowed in their ministrations as his daughter's words sunk in. "So Daddy looks different when he's around them huh?"

Kisara's face appeared skeptical and hesitant about answering in case she was hit again. "You smile like you do when you're around me and you love me."

"Naturally."

"So you must love them too."

"I think not," Atem quickly countered, prepared for that little conclusion. "Daddy loves you, money, and cars. I ain't got time for romance." He turned her around and started flexing his fingers over the front part of her head.

"You should make time," said Kisara and leaned forwards. Her eyes squinted at her father's face. Atem was puzzled at the expression, wondering what she saw. She was far too wise beyond her years. At this age, Atem was barely learning how to load a handgun and breaking it down to the last bolt. Wisdom was a distant burden he allowed his elders to deal with so all of his focus could be on having fun and taking advantage of his privileges. When had his daughter learned to know more about him then he did? "Granddaddy said if something is important, you make time to handle it. You have the picture of Mr. Sad Eyes. You weren't looking at the cameraperson. You were looking at him. His eyes shined like Yugi's and yours did too. I think you love Mr. Sad Eyes, but not Yugi yet. You smile like you do though. That's all I think." Seeming satisfied with having delivered her say on the matter, Kisara went back to splashing around in the tub water and messily lathering the bar of soap on her rag.

Atem knew it was stupid to analyze a child's speculation on what was going on with his life. If it were anyone else, he would've proudly shoved his foot down their throat until they were choking on his shoelaces. His family knew him though. Seth, especially, would scold him with a glance about denying what he was feeling and ask why he was being so ignorant about it. However, to hear the words buried so deep in his chest about how he really felt made his mouth flood with a sugary sweetness and his heart flop.

Love. Hell no. He didn't love anyone. Yami, maybe once upon a time, but Yugi, well, Atem would admit there was some connection. But love? He didn't do love. Hell no. . . . Hell no.

"Hey, Cousin Seth."

Atem snapped out of his mental rave to answer his child. "What'd you say, baby?"

"I said, hey Cousin Seth." Kisara pointed a wet finger. "He's behind you."

_Son of a bitch. _

Atem stole a warring glance with his daughter and the man standing behind him. Seth was wearing a plain blue stretch t-shirt and black Levi jeans with low top black, white and blue Converse shoes. His gangly arms were crossed over his wide chest. A dark eyebrow lifted to his hairline. His whole demeanor echoed like a canyon scream. He wasn't pleased at what he'd just walked in on.

"How long have you been there?"

"Long enough," Seth shoved of the doorframe and entered. "We need to talk."

"Cousin Seth!" Kisara scrambled around in the tub and dunked half way in to cover her lower extremities. "You can't come in! I'm a girl!"

"Hush," he calmly chided to the little girl. "Wash yourself until we get back. No horse playing either."

Kisara sighed. "Yes sir," she obediently grunted and went back to cleaning her body.

Seth beckoned his cousin to follow him into the living where they both took seats on the couch. Atem sat the heaviest. He dragged his hand over his face, mentally readying himself for whatever lecture his older cousin would spew.

He knew Seth was prolonging the suspense on purpose. He didn't say a word, just sitting there staring at the flat screen television, their dark reflections shining off the pitch-black glass. Atem had thought Seth was just looking at the blank screen. When he concentrated, he saw the older man wasn't just looking, but staring intently at him, eyes sharp as a hawk.

Atem blanched and then remembered how that would look to his second in command and simply rolled his eyes. "The hell you starin' at?"

"You," Seth answered right away. "At least, I think it's' you. I get the feeling I'm staring someone else. Maybe, an old face from ten years ago."

"Then you need to get your eyes checked."

Seth gave Atem a patient look. "For a child to explain your emotions so vividly and you not see it yourself, warrant's my concern for you. _Are you_ falling back in love with Yami?"

"No," Atem snapped with half the force intended. "I'm not."

"Why would Kisara believe that her father might be infatuated with our natural enemy? Not to mention a young man who still has baby's milk on his breath?"

"She saw a picture of Yami in my closet. From there, she came up with her own conclusions."

"Is that all?"

"Yeah."

Seth blinked. "You still have pictures of him?" He paused. "Before or after the incident?"

"Before," Atem bit off. "Why the hell would I want any of him afterwards. We weren't together then."

"And that boy?"

"A harmless fling; someone Kisara plays with at the park. Why the hell are you grilling me like a kid who can't keep his pants on?"

"I'm worried."

"No, you're nosey."

"No," Seth's voice hardened thick as diamonds. He leaned in so close, Atem could see the individual specks of color in those blue eyes. "We're family. Blood. We almost lost you six years back. I've never seen my uncle look so broken down when he saw you damn near close to death. And why? Because you were caught up in all that bullshit with Yami and that bitch, Heba. If a young child is practically replaying scenes from years before she was born to you, shouldn't this be a clue that you're about to make the same mistake?"

"It's not the same."

"Bullshit."

"It's not," Atem insisted strongly. He studied his cousin and saw no evidence his argument was convincing him otherwise. Atem stubbornly stared off to another side of the room instead of leaving his face on display for Seth to pick off. "You're exaggerating shit you don't have any idea about."

"Is that right?"

"Yeah, that's right!"

"Alright," Seth pulled out his cell phone and slid his phone across the screen.

Atem didn't like that look. "What are you doing?"

Seth ignored him. His ear was pressed on the phone tight, making it impossible for Atem to identify the voice that answered.

"Cedric, I got a mission for you." Seth looked pointedly at his cousin with a dark smirk. "You and about twenty more head across the border to that game shop down the street from the Grove. That Yugi Muto kid from Domino High works there. As soon as you see him, you take 'em out—"

As soon as the words left his mouth, Atem saw red. He growled like a deranged animal on a rampage. Without warning, he stabbed his elbow in Seth's side, making him doubled over in pain. The gang leaders commenced in a struggle to steal the phone. He was sure he almost had the phone until Seth stretched his arm out and held his hand under Atem's chin, shoving his knee in the gang leader's gut.

"Seth!" Atem shouted angrily. "Give me the fuckin' phone!"

"What's wrong, cousin? You don't care what happens to this boy do you? You don't care. It's all a misunderstanding—"

"Fuck you!" Atem howled, hands still outstretched and thrashing. "Call it off!"

"Someone's angry," Seth's faintly amused voice taunted, long grin in place. "Or better yet, why not change the order? I'll have them go after Yami, but oh no, it'll take more than twenty to kill him. I'll send the whole west block down there. That's right; he won't see it coming when the bullet blows straight through his head!"

"SETH!"

"Or should I take 'em both out!"

"AHHHH SETH!" Atem's eyes were bright with malice. He wrenched back violently and managed to wrestle the phone from Seth's hand and shouted, "You go near either of 'em Ced, and I'll fuckin' kill you and your bitch mother!" The phone was hurled with vicious force against the back wall, shattering into countless pieces. The electric guts bounced and careened on the floor, its final whines piercing the momentary silence before the drama erupted.

The air seemed to explode with tension. The destruction continued as the two cousins went at one another with their fists. Their shouts, grunts and sounds were filled with complex emotions, anger and frustration winning above them all.

Atem's own anger, regret, and frustration whirled up in him like a fuse. His fists charged forward, the desire to hurt massively engulfing his own being. He caught Seth in the chin, quietly relishing in the resulted small crunch noise. Another punch landed on Seth's side when he tried to dodge the oncoming assault. However, Seth wasn't Atem's second in command because of family obligations. They were cousins, friends, partners thicker than oil and stronger than blood. They'd fought with each other all their lives and the odds were never the same. Seth would win some. Atem would win some. The winners were never determined until some was on the ground, beaten to a bloody pulp.

Seth met Atem's attacks blow for blow, splitting the younger cousin's lip and slamming a sharp jab to the gut that had Atem bend over and scrambling to put some distance between him and those direct swings.

Atem went as far as he could before turning and running head first into Seth's chest, wrapping his arms around his waist. Atem's hands fought with lifting the taller man off the ground. Multiple blows to his back from Seth's excessive strikes nearly took him out, but Atem was just as relentless. He hooked his ankle around Seth's leg and the two went stumbling to the ground. As one, they rolled, fighting for dominance over the other, pushing, shoving, and kicking. Blood spilled from the little cuts and slight bruising, but the pain was numbed from the adrenaline rush. It was a secondary sensation compared to the desperate need to win.

They rolled and tasseled repeatedly, fierce and angry. Their clothes were torn, their jaws swollen and lips split. Blood leaked from their hairlines and cuts on their cheeks. Seth pushed at Atem's shoulders when the gang leader locked Seth between his thighs and started drilling his face with his fists, each monstrous blow striking like lightning bolts.

"Who the fuck you think you're fightin' huh?" Atem shouted in between attacks. "You forgot who the fuck I am? Don't you ever challenge me!"

"Fuck you!" Seth bucked his hips, jolting Atem off balance and on his side, now the new victim. "I'm trying to help you understand what you're getting yourself into! And you attack me? Getting pissed over some pussy! I'm your flesh and blood! I came first you stupid . . . ignorant . . . fuck!" Seth was determined to hammer his aggression on Atem with all his being.

The world around them suddenly dropped several degrees. Ice water soaked the two men to their bones. The shocking chill jolted them to reality, out of their Alpha-macho atmosphere. They turned wide eyes and gapping mouths at the one holding a large empty bucket over their heads.

"You two," Isis's ruby red lips worked apart into a nasty snarl, "will cease this foolishness right now!"

Still gawking, the cousins took a few seconds to compose themselves, before roughly separating and sitting on either end of the couch. Isis switched her eyes from one to the other, amazed and pissed. She plopped the bucket on the floor and stalked over to stand between them. She placed a hand on her ample hips and eyes screwed thin, glaring disapprovingly at her family. She looked ready to fight as well with her long dark hair braided in cornrows, wearing a navy blue tank top, camouflage leggings and matching blue heels with gold bracelets on her wrists and gold-hooped earrings.

"What has gotten into you two? We as a family do not fight amongst ourselves," Isis's heavily accented voice boomed. "Whatever you two are disputing over cannot be so potent that it'll poison your minds into spilling blood. Your blood!" She swiped her finger over Atem's eyebrow and showed the pair the smear of wet red on her thumb. "I come in here to find you two scrapping on the floor like starved dogs over a bone. Kisara is in the bedroom crying because she thinks you're trying to kill each other—damn you both! This behavior is inexcusable! What do you have to say in your defense?"

Neither Seth nor Atem said a word. Seth neatly padded at his swollen lip with the front of his t-shirt, attempting to present his usual cool disposition. It was hard to do that with your left eye black and your bottom lip as red as ghost pepper. Atem smirked and immediately regretted it when his bottom lip started to protest. With nothing to deter the pain, everything on his body started to throb.

"Nothing to say?"

Atem snorted. "No, especially to you."

Isis's eyelashes fluttered like a fan. "Then how will you explain to your daughter that you were willing to kill your own cousin over something possibly trivial."

"It _was_ trivial," Seth grumbled.

Atem gave him an evil look. "You want your ass whooped again?"

Seth arched an eyebrow with an expression that clearly translated he was all for another round.

"Enough!" Isis said angrily. "This will not continue. We cannot work together like this tonight; not when we're at each other's throats and Kisara upset."

Atem climbed to his feet. "I'll go to her—"

Isis pushed at his chest. "Not like that you won't. You go out, clean yourself up and when you return you better have an explanation ready!"

"Who the fuck you talkin' to like that?"

"You Atem! You!" Isis shot back. "You do not scare me. That tough guy act means nothing, not when it concerns my family. Now leave at once or so help me, I'll snatch you by your hair and drag you to the street myself!" She dismissed him with a roll of her neck and snagged Seth by his shirt, pushing him toward the bathroom. " And you, go and shower now!"

Ain't this a trip? Kicked out of his own home. After scrapping around with Seth, Atem wasn't going to risk an altercation with Isis. Female or not she could best many men with those long legged kicks and speed punches.

"Are you still here?"

"No, I'm gone," Atem held up his hands and made his way to the doorway. He wanted to go back and check on his daughter. Seeing him involved in any kind of combat violence, especially pertaining to family, is something she should never have to see. Twisting his lips to one side of his mouth, Atem turned the doorknob and looked over his shoulder.

Isis had her arms folded like a bow over her chest, hips cocked to the side and legs spread apart.

On second thought, yeah, he'll just leave. Without another word, he stumbled out of the front door and went for the elevator. Everything was hurting now. His muscles were going to be fucked up for the next few days.

Something buzzed in his back pocket, indicating a text message. It buzzed one more time. There were two messages.

Atem read the first one.

_We're not finished with this. _

_~Seth. _

He better believe this shit wasn't over. Atem dropped his head against the metal wall. "Fuck." His head was swimming and everything. Since when had Seth's uptight ass had such a sharp left hook?

Atem rubbed over his eyes and slid his thumb over the screen to read the next text.

_Call me. _

_~Yami. _

Yami? Was it . . . no. . . . Atem frowned hard at the screen. He read the message twenty times and still he couldn't believe it. Why would Yami—this didn't make any sense . . . unless. Unless he made his decision. However, who was to say this was Yami and not some twisted ass scheme concocted by Seth. If that's the case, Atem already had a beat down ready for him.

Atem pressed over the unknown phone number and waited. The screen lit up and showed 'outgoing call'.

It rung once. A low, quiet voice answered that hit Atem in a certain part of his chest like the sting of a thousand bees.

"_Atem."_

_It was him. _

Despite all he'd gone through tonight, Atem smiled softly into the phone. "Young Blood." He licked his lips, chuckling. "You kept my number all this time?"

"_I didn't know it was the same,"_ was what Yami said in a typical Yami manner. _"I took a chance."_

They fell silent, listening to the slow breathing.

Yami spoke again. "_Where are you now?"_

"Heading out, why?"

"_. . . Meet me at the docks."_

"Why?"

Yami's chuckle rolled inside Atem's ear like butter. _"To talk,"_ he said. "_I'm unarmed."_

He was leaving himself wide open. Atem thinned his lips. "No tricks?"

"_No tricks. Word is bond." _

Atem to admit with drawn curiosity that he was tempted to go. "Alright, I'll be there in a few."

"_Good. . . Atem?"_

"Yeah?"

"_Come alone. It's just you, me . . . and Yugi." _

The phone hung up. Yami wouldn't give Atem the opportunity to question what this was about. If the Blue Eyes leader wasn't intrigued now, hearing this would be a three-way discussion definitely piqued his interests.

* * *

Zigfried wanted to slap that smirk right off Ushio's face.

Showing up at his and Pegasus's home in the middle of the night, uninvited and the only kind of warning received is a quick text and a knock on the door. Zigfried hadn't realized how terrified he was of Max waking up and hearing the man, until he made a mad dash down the stairs, praying to Mother Mary that he'd reached the door in time before the housekeepers. His sock clad feet thumped down the marble stairs one by one by one.

When Zigfried ripped the door open, he couldn't believe the intimidating Supreme was standing on his doorstep like he was ready to have a tour of the estate. He hadn't wasted time guiding his secret associate around a private part of the house to prevent any witnesses or surveillance from getting a good look at his face.

Once out of eye view and ear shot, Zigfried went ballistic.

"Are you crazy, you incompetent fool? If Max saw you he'd skin your hide as well as mine!"

The Supreme didn't lose his charming grin. He inhaled the cigar dangling from his lips and exhaled it. "I wanted to see you, sweetheart. What, you didn't miss me?"

"Don't mock me, Ushio!" Zigfried sneered with a jutted finger. "I'll strip you of everything you own if you ever do this again!"

"Now, now that isn't nice. I came to talk with you about something."

"In the middle of the night?"

"You never had a problem meeting me late before."

Zigfried pulled at his vanilla cream robes, a soft blush on his cheeks. "I was in the middle of comforting, mon amour."

Ushio's nose wrinkled with disgust. "I wanna know something about that kid, Yugi Muto."

Zigfried frowned, confused. "The high school boy? What of him?"

"I saw him coming outta the Grove a couple of days ago. Is he in league with them?"

"No," Zigfried said as if the fact should've been plainly obvious. "The boy has no legions with either gang . . . as far as I'm aware. Pegasus wouldn't allow it anyway."

"Why not?"

"Because of his brother's death six years ago, that was a part of the agreement—" Zigfried shut his mouth at the wrong moment.

The Supremes' grin spread across his face like a hungry crocodile. He knew it. "Interesting."

"I-I've said too much. I must go."

"Oh, no, no, no, not so fast." Ushio snatched Zigfried by his upper arm before the older Frenchman could make his escape. "You haven't said enough."

Zigfried gasped, at the burn of fingers coiling around his arm. "How dare you! Unhand me!"

"I will," Ushio chuckled, dabbing the ashes off the end of his cigar, "after we take a ride. You're gonna tell me about all this shit tonight. And don't skip on the details, I want to know everything."

"About what?"

Ushio snickered. "Don't play stupid now, sweetheart. You know what I mean. That punk kid Heba, Yami, Atem, all that drama from six years ago—all of it. Tell me everything."

This whole scheme just might benefit him more than he thought.


End file.
